


London Skyline

by Caledonia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 100000 Words of Angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst, BAMF Merlin, But Not Yet!, Chapter Specific Notes and Tags, Complete, Drinking At Some Point, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Honestly It's Mostly PG Until Later, How Do You Even Tag A 41 Chapter Story, I Can't Tell You If There's A Happy Ending Or Not Because That Would Count As A Spoiler, M/M, Magic is Real, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Modern Royalty, Other: See Story Notes, Past Character Death, Royalty, Sex at some point, Slow Burn, Sometimes People Speak Scottish, Tags Are Hard, These Are Not All The Tags, Unrequited Crush, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Tension, Which Is Kind of Like Sex, serious angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 159,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7269814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caledonia/pseuds/Caledonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young wizard Merlin must move from Scotland to London after the death of his mother. He gets a job with family friend Gaius working at Buckingham Palace where he begins to discover secrets about his family and his destiny. Oh, he also meets Prince Arthur which sort of complicates things. </p><p>Prince Arthur is fine. He enjoys reading and football and spending time with friends. He runs a lot. He'll be King one day but whatever. He's fine. Well, apart from his father trying to set him up with every magic user in the world, but he's fine, really. Just fine... Until that skinny, dark-haired, stupidly attractive Scottish boy shows up and throws a whole bucket load of spanners in the works.</p><p>Set in an alternate present where magic is common but still illegal in many countries. </p><p>This work is complete. Not all tags relate to all chapters. Mature rating does not apply to all chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prologue and Chapter 1 - In which the scene is set.
> 
> No chapter specific tags or warnings.
> 
> Sometimes they speak Scottish - Translations at the end if necessary.

#  **Prologue**

“You mean he is already showing signs of magical powers at age four?” Uther asks, surprised. Gaius nods at him as they watch Arthur play with the older boy across the nursery. Arthur is dressed as a super hero, red cape trailing behind him, blond hair almost white in the sunshine. He holds his tattered stuffed rabbit loosly in his left hand and regards the red-haired boy shyly.

“And you are saying his father is a wizard also?” Uther asks. The red-haired boy tries to share his train toy with Arthur, who backs a step away and does not take the toy.

“As was his grandfather before him.” Gaius says, bestowing a smile upon Arthur’s new play mate, who looks to the adults in the room for reassurance when Arthur fails, yet again, to play along. 

“That’s promising.” Uther says, nodding. “Is there any other indication that he might be the one?”

“Not as yet, Your Majesty.”

“Have you told my father?” Uther asks Gaius. Growing tired of the red-haired child’s advances, Arthur finally runs from him and across the room into his father’s arms. Uther lifts his son with a smile, swinging him into the air and kissing his cheeks until Arthur is giggling and trying to get away from Uther’s embrace.

“No, the King doesn’t know.” 

“Good. I do not want to mention it unless we’re sure.” Uther says, taking his son back to where the other boy is playing and trying the introduction again.

*

“But I thought Grandfather was King.” Arthur says, clearly confused. 

“He was, but I will become King tomorrow.” Uther says, moving aside and making room in his chair for his son. Arthur’s bright hair has dulled to a rich golden as he’s aged and he is tall for six years old, but he feels terribly small and fragile in Uther’s embrace. 

“Who will be King after you, Father?” Arthur asks, pushing himself further into Uther’s arms. His old stuffed rabbit has seen better days, but Arthur still carries it most places. Uther takes the toy and gives it a cuddle, eliciting a smile from his son. 

“You will be King.” Uther replies, giving the rabbit back to Arthur and placing a kiss on the top of both of their heads. 

“Me?” Arthur asks, and in his voice is all the eagerness and uncertainty that Uther feels on this, the eve of his Coronation.

“Yes, you will be King, Arthur, but not for a very long time.” Before Arthur can reply there is a knock on Uther’s door. “Come in.”

“Good evening, Your Highness.” Gaius says, entering Uther’s room with a sheaf of paper in one hand and a very excited look on his face. “I have found some further information.”

“Tell me.” Uther says, suddenly invigorated, rising to meet Gaius and leaving Arthur alone on the chair behind him. Uther and Gaius converse rapidly in hushed voices. Arthur, growing tired of trying to understand their dicsussion, finally falls asleep alone in Uther’s chair, clutching his old stuffed rabbit to his chin and breathing deeply his father’s familiar cologne. 

*

The new kid is younger than Arthur by a good few years and seems incredibly nervous. His parents seem even more nervous, perhaps having a better understanding of what it means to be a private guest of the King at a Royal Garden Party. Arthur tries to make the kid feel comfortable, having plenty of experience meeting with and talking to strangers, but the kid still shies away. Eventually Arthur gives up and goes to play with his actual friends.

It isn’t as though the boy will be around for long any way. Once Uther and Gaius change their mind about him he won’t ever be seen at The Palace again. That’s just how it goes. Still, Percy and Leon try to include the boy, though he remains quiet and off to the side until Morgana starts talking to him when the boy shows a greater interest. This annoys Gwaine who always wants all of Morgana’s attention to himself, and it annoys Arthur, too, because Arthur always wants all of Gwaine’s attention to himself.

Gaius joins Uther before the end of the party, shaking his head, no. Uther very kindly and politely dismisses the young boy and his parents and they leave looking more confused than they had when they arrived. Arthur, at least, is pleased he didn’t spend too much time getting to know them.

#  **Chapter 1**

In the distance is the sound of a helicopter approaching. Arthur barely looks up from the cards in his hands until his phone buzzes three text alerts in rapid succession and he sets down the cards to look at it.

Arthur makes a sound of disgust and rolls his eyes. Morgana, her interest piqued, takes the phone out of Arthur’s hand and, at Arthur’s silent prompting, reads the messages out loud. Lancelot laughs heartily as he lifts a card from the pile between them, taking great care to ensure no one can read his hand.

[text from King to Arthur: Visitor incoming. Please offer courteous accommodation. He is a wizard as was his father before him.]

“Didn’t you come to France to get away from Uther and his matchmaking?” Morgana asks, handing Arthur back his phone and sipping her gin and tonic. Arthur keeps his eyes on the approaching helicopter with a scowl. 

“He sure did. He was a lawyer this time, wasn’t he? Awfully boring.” Leon says, looking critically at each of the card players as though trying to guess their cards. Finally he turns to Gwaine and asks, “Do you have any jacks?” 

“Go fish.” Gwaine says, and Leon takes a card from the pile with a sigh. “I thought he was an accountant.” Gwaine says, then turns to Arthur with a devilish smile on his face, “Arthur, do you have any kings?”

The table explodes into laughter and Arthur, rolling his eyes dramatically, hands over the playing card. At some point during their holiday someone has taped tabloid images of Arthur’s face over all four kings in the deck of cards. 

“Maybe he’ll be lovely.” Morgause says, shrugging her shoulders gracefully. Arthur makes a sound of indignation. “What?” Morgause asks, looking around at the circle. Morgana, taking pity on her, pats Morgause’s shoulder in a sympathetic gesture. 

“They’re never lovely.” Gwaine says, shaking his head.

“Nope.” Leon adds. “Remember that one with the glass eye?”

“Remember that one that was old enough to be Arthur's grandfather?” Gwaine adds, laughing.

“Now, be fair, sometimes they’re not that bad.” Lancelot adds, always magnanamous. 

“Easy for you to say, you aren’t supposed to ‘unite’ with them.” Arthur says, petulant, rearranging the cards in his hand and glancing moodily at the helicopter. 

“Unite?” Morgause asks.

“Uther believes in a mythical magical being and has spent Arthur’s entire life setting him up with people in the hope that it might be them. It’s sad, really. Especially since we don’t even think they exist.”

“Made Arthur’s coming out as gay pretty unremarkable, though.” Gwaine says, as though this is the silver lininig they were all waiting on. “Even with thie sucession crisis.”

“Can we please change the subject?” Arthur asks, then turns to Leon, “Do you have any nines?”

“Go fish. Maybe ‘unite’ doesn’t mean what you’re thinking it means.” Leon says, but this point has been raised before.

“Of course it does,” Arthur begins, but Gwaine cuts him off.

“It means shagging!” As the whole table collapses into laughter again, Arthur leaves to get another drink. Behind him he can hear Morgause asking more questions. Ordinarily he would be annoyed, because he’s answered all of the questions a million times, and he’d come to France, as Leon had said, to get away from all of this, but Morgause is new to the group and Morgana’s girlfriend on top of that, so he tries to be more patient.

“But you said he’s been trying Arthur’s whole life? Surely he didn’t think ‘unite’ then, that’s vile.” 

As Morgana tries to explain Uther’s apparent motives, Arthur downs his drink and wonders exactly how he is going to get out of entertianing the visitor this time. Their yacht is anchored somewhere off the Côte D'azur, a few miles from the mainland. The sun is splitting the sky and Arthur is absolutely roasting. On all sides they are surrounded by glittering blue water. Arthur would much rather be out in that water swimming than waiting on deck to welcome a stranger he’ll likely not be interested in at all and who'll likely be gone from their lives in a hurry in any case. Besides, it's too hot in the sun.

“Is that why King Constantine made magic legal again? So that Arthur’s mythical match guy wouldn’t have to hide?” Morgause asks.

“We think so.” Morgana says, looking around at everyone.

“Seems to be the only good thing that’s come from my Father’s obsession.” Arthur says, leaning his back against the bar. The card game has been abandoned in light of the conversation and the fact that the helicpoter is landing at the stern of the ship.

“You’re pro-magic, then?” Morgause asks, and Arthur knows she has rather a lot riding on the answer being a quite promising witch herself.

“I think I would be even if it were still illegal.” Arthur says, truthfully. “It’s come in handy in my life, historically.”

“You mean Gaius and Nimueh? They’ve been at The Palace since before you were born, haven’t they?” Morgause asks, shielding her eyes from the sun. Arthur just nods. As a group they all regard the helicopter pad where a young man with long blond hair is alighting from the helicopter, head down.

“Christ.” Gwaine swears, loudly, then digs in his pocket for a £10 note which he hands over the table to Morgana with a pained sigh.

“I _told_ you the next one would be blond.” Morgana smiles, flaunting her winnings. “Sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur doesn’t even pause. He throws his cards on the table and turns from the group, lifting his sticky shirt off as he goes. He passes two members of the Royal Protection Command and nods at them. How anyone can wear a black suit in this heat...

Behind him Arthur can hear his friends calling his name, but he ignores them. He stands for only a moment on the edge of the deck, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the weight of his destiny, feeling his stresses dissolve, before he dives head-first into the crystal waters. A long swim in the deep sea will relax him for certain. He will leave his friends to make their introductions and awkwardly explain away his absence. He probably won’t even introduce himself to this potential match. His father has crossed every line imaginable by sending someone here to meet with him while he is on holiday, and Arthur is burnt by the injustice of it all. So instead, he swims. 

It isn’t that he is opposed to any of these men in principle, and certainly he is not put off by their being magic users, it’s just that as soon as Uther discovers they aren’t acutally the person he’s looking for, he sends them away and they’re never heard from again. Arthur had learned very quickly not to get too attached. 

_“He is a wizard, as was his father before him."_ is a sentence Arthur has heard quite enough already in his lifetime. However, no matter how often Arthur turns these men down, or how adamant he is with his father that, regardless of the existence of any legendary being of pure magic, Arthur shall choose his own companions in this life, thank you, his Father insists upon continuing in his quest. 

No one is on deck when Arthur climbs from the water. Morgana must have suggested they retreat indoors due to the blistering afternoon heat. This suits Arthur well as he won’t have to speak to anyone on the way to his cabin. He towels off quickly and seeks out his mobile phone to send a text to his father.

[text from Arthur to King: Coming back early. Too warm in France. Others staying. Speak soon. Arth.]

After which Arthur descends into his cabin to pack his bag. 

*

Everything is in darkness. Merlin sits on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, feeling his world fall away beneath him. 

A spread of papers beside him on the bed go a long way to explain his despair. There are multiple envelopes stamped with large red OVERDUE notices. Beside this a thick sheaf of legal papers representing the repossession of his mother's home, and on top of all of that a single piece of paper: The Order of Service from his mother's funeral. It had been a brief, albeit well-attended, affair. Merlin had gallantly made it through half of his speech before he had had to be led from the room while he broke down in unrelenting sobs. 

Next to that mournful piece of paper sits an opened envelope out of which spills a hastily-read letter and a handful of train tickets which will, eventually, lead him all the way to London.

The obituary Merlin clutches in his hand has been cut from the local paper. It doesn't explain Hunith Emrys as Merlin had known her, not the wonderful person his mother had been. It mostly focuses on her recent, brief and apocalyptic illness.

It doesn't even mention Merlin's late father.

On the floor at Merlin's feet lies a drab brown duffel bag into which Merlin has placed all of his most treasured possessions; his sketchbooks and pencils, his mother's jewellery, his father's books (which he had only recently discovered tucked away into a shadowy recess of the loft), and Merlin's only photograph of his parents together - his father looking young and arrogant in his Brigadier uniform and his mother positively glowing in her wispy ivory wedding gown. 

The portrait he had drawn of his mother is tucked into his small, worn leather shoulder bag.

Time passes, but it doesn't disrupt Merlin, who simply sits there, thinking. Someone enters the room very quietly and Merlin only looks up when he hears the sound of glass clinking.

Will sits down cross-legged on the floor and cracks open a bottle of Johnnie Walker, pouring out two generous servings and handing one to Merlin.

Merlin drinks it down without pausing and then holds the empty glass out for a refill. Will, who is sipping his drink more casually, obliges. 

After a few long moments of silence, Will speaks. 

"Did you know that you're causing a storm out there?"

Merlin says nothing, sipping his drink.

"It's almost a hurricane. Just around your house, mind, not the whole village."

"Not my house anymore." Merlin's voice sounds like treacle on a cold day.

"Aye, I ken." 

There's some more drinking and some more silence.

"I just thought you'd like to know about the storm. People are starting to talk. You might want to, I don't know, reign it in or something? Maintain a semblance of plausible deniability?"

"She's died." Merlin chokes on the words. The air around them stirs as though all the windows are open in a gale. 

"I know."

Merlin takes the bottle off Will and takes a long swig.

"At least she's not suffering anymore." Will says in an obvious attempt to find the silver lining. 

"What am I going to do?"

"Well, you've to move to London tomorrow for a few months, then, when you can, you've to come back."

"To what, Will? What have I got left to come back _to_?" The air is moving more strongly now, rustling the papers on the bed.

"You've got me." Will says in an earnest voice so clouded with emotion that Merlin finally looks at him properly. 

Will is soaking wet, his dark hair dishevelled and plastered to his face. His eyes are red-rimmed and fragile. Merlin has never seen Will with his guards down like this, even though they've been best friends their whole lives. The air in the room settles and the storm outside calms. 

Merlin slides down off the bed and kneels in front of Will, reaching forward to push his hair back out of his eyes. When Merlin kisses him it isn't a kiss of sexual passion, but one of great comfort and deep emotion.

Will kisses him back as though he's saying goodbye forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * ken means "know"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 - In which we get a small glimpse of Arthur's everyday life and Merlin arrives in London.
> 
> There are no chapter specific tags.

#  **Chapter 2**

The flight home from France is long and tedious. Although he is exhausted he is also full of tense energy. The only solution is a nice, long run. Arthur does not speak to anyone when he arrives at The Palace, and he does not stop there for long. He is changed into his running gear and on his way out the door within minutes. He sends one quick text message before hitting the streets. It is very late, late enough that the city is almost completely deserted. This is his favourite time to go running, when he can see his city down to the bones.

He runs flat-out for a few minutes, his security struggling to keep up, before his phone signals a return text and Arthur slows to read it.

# 

[texts between Arthur and Charlie:  
**Arthur:** Hey Charlie. Who's on tonight?  
**Charlie:** Jameson, Walters, Barnes McCulloch and me.  
**Arthur:** On my way.]

Excellent. Arthur sends a three word reply and alters his course, heading immediately for The National Gallery. The museum is closed to the public at this late hour, but Arthur has been going there after-hours for years. His father had taken him quite often as a child. Uther has a deep, well-hidden love and appreciation for fine art, which he passed down to Arthur, but he is far too busy these days to accompany Arthur on these visits, so Arthur has gotten used to wandering the darkened museum on his own.

He has made an arrangement with a few of the full-time security guards and, as long as he doesn't touch anything or require the overhead lights turned on for more than a few minutes at a time, he is welcome to roam at his leisure. Depending on who is working, he is accompanied by a member of staff. Arthur doesn't mind being there on his own, although he misses having someone to talk to. Morgana has never been that interested, and Uther and Morgana are the only two people with whom Arthur would feel comfortable sharing the museum. Gwaine, Percy and Leon would not understand, and would probably break the carefully negotiated rules. Lance would probably enjoy these visits, but Arthur has never felt compelled to invite him.

As it is, tonight's will be a short visit. He is very tired, after all. When Arthur arrives at the building he stands as nonchalantly as possible beside one of the lower exit doors, waiting. Trafalgar Square is all but deserted. His security guards mill around nervously, one or two of them bent double, trying to catch their breath.

After not too long, the door opens. "Your Highness."

"Charlie! Good to see you. How's the family?" Arthur says, shaking Charlie's hand and entering the museum. It is much darker inside than it was on the street. Arthur's guards follow him inside, although one of them stays by the door, shoulders squared but still gasping for breath.

"Good, thanks." Charlie replies. "How was France?"

"Warm." Arthur says, smiling. "Anything new?"

"New Vermeer, area 23."

"I'll head there first, then. Thanks."

"Of course, Your Highness." Charlie replies, ushering Arthur's security guards into the staff room, then following Arthur at a discreet distance as he sets off along the corridors lit only by emergency lighting. He’s only following because Walters is working tonight and Walters, unlike Charlie, is likely to tell the higher ups that the Crown Prince of the United Kingdom likes to walk the halls of the National Gallery alone after closing hours.

Arthur walks briskly through the empty rooms. He has been here so often he can find his way along in the almost complete darkness without any trouble at all. Still, it has been a few months, so Arthur takes enough time to visit his favourites.

The new Vermeer, ON LOAN, is stunning. Charlie turns on the overhead lights for a brief moment and Arthur leans in for a closer look.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Charlie says, turning off the lights again.

"It is, that." Arthur mumbles. "Just the Turner, Charlie, then I'll be on my way," Arthur says, turning around and heading towards a different room.

"No 'Whistlejacket', sir?" Charlie asks.

"Not tonight, No." Arthur replies, following Charlie into the darkness.

It might be a very lonely way to view the masterpieces, but if Arthur didn't come in the dead of night, he couldn't come at all. There was no way he could navigate the crowds safely. They would have to close the museum to the public. Well, his father would require them to close to the public, and if they did that Arthur would probably have to talk to the press.

Not much later Arthur says goodbye to Charlie and begins his run back to the Palace. He chooses a short distance and they're back within 20 minutes.

He sheds his security at the gates, then goes off in search of his father. He nods to the guards outside Uther's rooms, then listens for any noise within. As suspected, his father is still up. Arthur knocks once and enters. Uther is sitting behind his massive desk, surrounded by stacks of paper. Every time Arthur sees his father he looks years older, even if it has only been a few days.

"Son!" Uther comes out from behind his desk and pulls Arthur into a strong hug. "How was France?"

The fact that Uther hasn't mentioned the unexpected visitor he sent to France means that they turned out not to be what Uther wanted them to be. As usual. Arthur, while still annoyed that he had to cut his holiday short, decides not to mention it. A fight with his father is the last thing he needs.

"Too warm. How's home?" Arthur sits himself on one of Uther's chairs and Uther sits behind his desk again. It is more comfortable for both of them with the desk between them.

"You've been out." It is not a question.

"National Gallery. There's a new Vermeer. On loan."

"Nice?"

“Yes. You should go see for yourself." He suggests.

"Maybe I will." Uther says, going back to his papers. "How many did you take?"

Arthur feels his shoulders tense automatically. This argument, again. He is too tired for this.

''Enough. The city was deserted."

"I remember telling you not to go out into the city at night.''

''Father, it was fine."

''You are not to do that again, Arthur. I have put these rules in place for a reason. You are heir to the throne, and you must not go gallivanting anywhere you like."

There is a lethal coldness in Uther's voice with which Arthur is very familiar. He feels his temper rise, but does not give way.

''I wasn't gallivanting..."

"You are not to do this again, Arthur, or you will lose the privilege entirely. Am I understood?" He doesn't wait for a response, "Goodnight."

In the corridor Arthur stands for a moment, both fists clenched, feeling his anger crash over him. Then he rolls his shoulders methodically, and heads for his own rooms. History has taught him the pointlessness of arguing.

*

The next day Arthur is still fairly angry at his father, so the first thing he does is go running. Again. He changes into his gear, pulls the well-worn Red Socks cap (a gift from one of his Father’s candidates many years ago) down low over his eyes, knowing full well the irony of an Englishman in a baseball hat, and leaves the room. He stops by to collect his security contingent, all five of them, and then heads out into the late summer London morning.

Admittedly, as heir to the throne and only child of the King, taking a jog through the streets of London is not an easy task. His father would prefer if Arthur confined his exercise to the private estate, but Arthur refuses. Arthur has the city in his bones. He loves London and needs to be on the streets with real people, not confined to shaded paths in private woodland where the only people he meets are members of staff.

Still, it is a security nightmare. He never chooses the same route twice, at his father's request. Today is a clear day and he wants to see the sun rise on the river, so he heads east.

The city is just rousing from slumber and there are few people on the street. He passes a scattering of other runners, one woman with incredibly long red hair that he sees on occasion and nods to politely. She nods back at him with a smile and Arthur sees the man next to him tense. Not for the first time does Arthur believe he'd be less conspicuous out here on his own.

They cross the Thames via Westminster Bridge, the water teeming below as thick as oil. Turning left they continue past the London Eye which casts an interesting shadow in the rising sun. Arthur would never attempt to venture here during mid-day as the place is always crawling with tourists and is therefore too dangerous, but at the moment it is deserted.

Arthur picks up speed along Southbank heading towards Bankside where he plans to cross The Millennium footbridge and circle St. Paul's before heading home. There is a cluster of art exhibits along the water and, not for the first time, Arthur wishes he could take his time and wander the area aimlessly. Arthur rolls his shoulders, feeling those desires slide off him like water. They are impossible dreams for the heir to the throne to hold, but he can't help himself.

Arthur climbs the slight incline onto the Millennium Bridge and feels the always unsettling sensation of the bridge undulating beneath his feet, rumbling in tandem with his footfall. He passes a few more joggers, one of whom, a pale boy with too-blond hair, is familiar looking, but Arthur does not nod at him, he doesn't want to scare his security again. St Paul's rises ahead of him as he bolts up the steps and then heads north-west back towards The Palace. He slows his approach and lets himself feel every stretch and ache in his muscles. He will stop by to see Gaius today and get some tinctures and compresses so that his body can heal properly before his next run.

*

Merlin is rough as hell. He and Will had finished the whiskey, and more. Then Merlin had been sent merrily on his way by the staff at The Prince and Crown, the inn where his mother had worked. Since then he'd been on public transportation for many, many hours, and now he is standing outside the large iron gates barring the general public from the grounds of Buckingham Palace. Gaius had instructed him to wait here, at the corner of Palace Street and Buckingham Gate. To wait hours if he needed to, but to wait in any case.

There is an intimidating guard standing nearby, regarding Merlin with some suspicion. Merlin knows he must look an absolute mess. He isn't great at mornings at the best of times. What he needs more than anything is a hot shower, enough coffee to bathe in, and a big breakfast. Something greasy and substantial.

But instead, he waits.

Waiting is not good. Waiting gives him time to think and thinking is certainly not good. His mind is flooded with thoughts of his mother. Memories both good and bad. He still hasn't gotten used to the idea that he'll never see her again. Never hear her voice or feel her arms around him. Embarrassingly, he feels his eyes well up. Swallowing the emotion at the back of his throat, he turns his head away from the guard and surreptitiously wipes away the single tear that has escaped the corner of his eye. He clears his throat and rolls his shoulders back, trying to rid himself of the weight of memory.

Before he really knows what he's doing, his sketchbook is out and his pencil is in his hand. He pages through to find an empty space, his mother's face smiling out at him from every surface. Finally, near the back, he finds a large enough area and gets to work. He draws randomly, the leaves on the tree opposite will do. this is only a diversion in any case. He has figured out, over the years, that his need to draw is often nearly a compulsion and one that he can most always give in to. Unlike his magic, which is a compulsion of an entirely different sort, and one that he has been carefully taught never to indulge. So instead, he draws.

As he looks up again, studying the play of light on the leaves, a group of black-clad, red-faced joggers pass Merlin followed by a handful of giggling schoolgirls in their uniforms. He ignores them, focusing on trying to get the lighting right in his drawing. The guard is still watching him.

London will hopefully prove to be a diversion in and of itself. In all of his seventeen years, Merlin has rarely left the tiny Scottish village he'd been born in, venturing to Glasgow with his mother only on very special occasions. However, as a friend of the family from many years before (whom Merlin has never met), Gaius has been named Merlin's guardian, so here he is, in London, at the Palace gates, waiting to be welcomed inside.

Merlin is old enough to live on his own, of course, but there is the small matter of money. He has none. Less than none. He and his mother had gambled everything on a revolutionary new treatment that the NHS wouldn't cover. Gambled and lost. Lost everything. At least he had Gaius, and hopefully a job here. He would work and save money and then go back to Ealdor. At least, that was the plan.

Ever since it was decided that Merlin would come to London, Will had tried to cheer Merlin up by teasing him rather incessantly about the fact that he would be moving to Buckingham Palace, where _Prince Arthur_ lived. Will knew about Merlin's ever present lustful obsession with the heir to the throne, and so Merlin had taken the teasing in his stride.

Merlin laughs to himself as he looks over his drawing. Prince Arthur. The one hope that Merlin clings to desperately is that, with the size of the Palace and his probable insignificant role within the staff, perhaps Merlin will never meet the prince. Therefore he will be spared the necessity of disappearing into oblivion on the spot so as not to embarrass himself utterly. With any luck he can live out the next few months without meeting anyone remotely royal. Especially when, like now, he feels like re-heated shite and, probably, looks as though he's been dragged through a hedge backwards.

Merlin feels a sharp tap on his shoulder and turns to see a tall, thin, white haired man smiling at him with a soft, friendly expression on his face.

"You must be Merlin. Welcome. Good to meet you." As it turns out, Gauis is exactly what Merlin thought he would be. Old. Gaius holds his hand out to shake Merlin's and the vigilant guard relaxes visibly. Merlin tucks his sketchbook back into his bag.

“You're just in time." Merlin nods his head at the guard's post. "If I'd loitered any longer you'd've had to bail me out the jail."

Gaius smiles and bends to lift Merlin's heavy rucksack from the pavement, but Merlin grabs it first. "I'll get this, thanks." Gaius looks as though he might fall over just from the exertion of standing, the weight of Merlin's bag would certainly flatten him.

"Well, then, follow me. We've got a busy morning. Quite a lot of security checks before we can get you properly processed. I'm afraid my word is only good to a point. The Palace has insisted on vetting you as any other member of staff." They walk through the imposing gate, and Merlin smiles ruefully at the (rather attractive, now he thinks about it) security guard with a shrug that says, _I'm sorry you didn't get to arrest me._

Although, he's heard the Tower of London is quite comfortable this time of year.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 - In which we get a colourful snapshot of Merlin's first two days in London.
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

#  **Chapter 3**

It is close to nine o'clock in the evening when Merlin is finally escorted to Gaius's offices, exhausted, starving and feeling rather put-upon. He has been thoroughly processed, to use Gaius's rather fitting term. There had been paperwork, interviews, lie detector tests, medical examinations, blood tests, DNA samples, more interviews and photographs, and a full body search which had been performed by a rather attractive doctor with spiky brown hair and had been, in Merlin's opinion, rather more thorough than it had needed to be. 

He is now being kept under "house arrest" until he is deemed either suitable or unsuitable to continue employment on the Royal Staff. A rather large part of Merlin hopes that he will be rejected and that he can return to Ealdor on the next train north. After the day he's had he misses the sleepy village and its 80 inhabitants, none of whom had ever attempted a full body search on him. Unless you counted Millicent Foster when they were 8.

Even though he's still feeling slightly hungover, he quite fancies a stiff drink with Will, but more than that he wants to be at his house, warmly ensconced in his small bedroom, listening to his mother baking in the kitchen. But thinking of that brings on tears, and he can’t be seen crying on his first day at the Palace.

"Ah, Merlin, you're back." Gaius barely looks up from his desk which is strewn with papers and books. Merlin spots his own rucksack sitting on the floor beside a comfortable looking armchair and he makes his way towards it, collapsing into the chair with a long-suffering sigh.

"I've thought about it, Gaius, and I'd like to politely decline your offer." Merlin says, without humour. He can hear the exhaustion in his voice.

"I've got a sandwich here if that would possibly change your mind?" Gaius says with a hint of a smile.

Merlin, too tired to walk to the desk and pick up the plate himself, simply waves his hand lazily and causes the plate of sandwiches and the bottle of juice to levitate across the room and into his waiting hands. He thinks nothing of his actions until he hears Gaius's startled inhalation. Merlin looks up at him, sandwich halfway to his lips and feels a rush of terror overcome him. His mother had warned him and _warned_ him.

"Fuck." Is all he can think to say. So he does say it, loudly.

Gaius's face is completely unreadable. He sets down the papers he is holding. "It seems as though you've been keeping secrets from me, Mr Emrys."

"Um." Merlin feels in a blind panic. How is Gaius being so calm? Merlin knows, from his mother, that magic is illegal in the UK, so Gaius should presently be arresting Merlin, or sending someone from the Royal Protection Command to arrest him.

"How long have you been studying?" Gaius walks slowly towards Merlin who is still sitting frozen in his chair. It has been years, _years_ , since he's done magic accidentally in front of anyone. His mother had warned him and _warned_ him about this. He runs through in his head exactly how much trouble he's about to get into. He had been joking about the Tower of London being nice this time of year...

“Studied? I've not studied." Merlin says, quite truthfully. The magic books in his rucksack had been hidden in the loft of his mother's house and Merlin had only discovered them after she had passed away. Judging by the layers of dust he'd dislocated, the box must have been up there his whole life, but he'd never seen it. Then Merlin thinks, how could I have studied when magic isn't legal? Maybe there are secret, underground schools? 

"Please, Merlin, I might be an old man, but I am _not_ an idiot. Tell me how long you've been studying."

"I'm not lying. I've never studied magic." Gaius looks thoroughly unconvinced, so Merlin continues. "It's just something I can do. I've been levitating objects since I was a baby according to Mum." Just saying the word out loud raises a lump in Merlin's throat that he has to swallow thickly before he can speak again. Suddenly the sandwich he's holding seems surplus to demands, and Merlin sets it back on the plate, feeling rather ill.

Gaius is still staring at him. Merlin had been joking about the public execution as well, but the look on Gaius's face makes him certain the gallows are in his future somehow.

"Well, if that is the case, I imagine you and I are going to have to have quite a few long conversations in the following weeks. Did you reveal any of your powers during your processing today?"

"Aye. I quite fancy a stint in the jail." Merlin says with all the sarcasm he can muster.

"Good. Now, eat that sandwich and, please, be more careful in future. They may have legalised magic in the United Kingdom, but there are still many countries where you can, and would, be executed." Gaius goes back to reading his papers without another glance at Merlin.

"Legalised in the UK? But Mum told me it was against the law. Punishable by death." Merlin can't help the wounded puppy look he turns on Gaius. His mother had drilled it into him from a very young age that he could be executed for his magic. Learning that this isn't the case makes him feel both betrayed and strangely relieved. On the one hand, why would his mother lie to him like that? But on the other hand, if he wasn't going to be executed then he wouldn't need to hide anymore. Excitement now replaces the panic in Merlin’s system.

"If she told you that then she was a very, very smart woman. The fewer people who know about your powers the better, Merlin. Do you understand me?" Gaius suddenly seems very serious, his easy manner now completely gone.

"But if it's not illegal then why do I have to hide?" Merlin says. Gaius spears him with a look that is both very sad and very serious.

"I will not explain this to you now, Merlin, you've had a long day and you're obviously very tired. Just trust me. I'm speaking from experience. Keep your powers to yourself. Keep them secret."

Experience? Merlin feels goose pimples erupt all over his body. Could Gaius mean what he thinks? Could Gaius be a wizard? Merlin has never met anyone else with powers and he can't help feeling excited. 

"Does that mean that you have powers?" Merlin asks, breathless.

Gaius looks at him for a long time and then nods very slowly. All at once Merlin starts to ask some of the million questions that he has, but Gaius interrupts him again. 

"Not tonight. You've had a long day and this conversation deserves more attention than either of us can pay. Know only that my powers are few but effective. I have a great gift for knowledge and I can apply a mixture of my powers and my knowledge to solve problems to great effect. Most know that I do have powers but I've managed to not ruffle anyone's feathers, so it tends to get overlooked. Even abroad. Please still keep quiet about it. Until I can ascertain what we're dealing with here," Gaius gestures to all of Merlin, "I ask you to please obey my wishes and tell no one about your powers. Nor should you allow yourself to slip up as you just have done and accidentally reveal to anyone else that you have powers. Am I understood?"

Merlin considers Gaius's revelations and his requests. Although he hasn't known Gaius for more than a day, he has an innate feeling that the older man has his best interests at heart and Merlin doesn't intend to contradict his orders. It will be difficult, though, out in the wider world. Back in Ealdor most people sort of understood about Merlin's powers, although he was never blatant about anything. His mother, he assumes, had words with folk. 

"Aye." Merlin eventually says, and he means it.

"Good." Gaius repeats, finally turning his attention back to his stack of papers and books. "Now, eat that sandwich. You look as though you could do with some feeding up."

Merlin looks down at his plate sadly. It really does look delicious, but thoughts of his mother are plaguing him now (What would she say if she knew he'd slipped up and let someone see his magic? He'd have been in SO MUCH trouble), and he has therefore lost his appetite.

"I'd like to get to my bed actually. It's an early start tomorrow, right? It wouldn't do for me to sleep in on my very first day at The Palace." Merlin tries to emphasise the last two words so that Gaius knows he's thinking in capital letters. 

"I'll have someone show you to your room." Gaius says, picking up the phone and punching in four numbers without looking up. Just as Gaius is about to speak, the door to his office opens and Merlin feels the bottom drop out of his entire world. Prince Arthur is coming into the room. _PRINCE ARTHUR_! Without even thinking about it, without pausing to remember Gaius's warnings not to use magic, Merlin plucks at the strings of reality around him and feels himself sinking into the other place so that he can't be seen. 

Gaius does not immediately look up, but continues his conversation before seeing Arthur when he nears his desk. As he hangs up the phone he glances in Merlin's direction and raises an eyebrow but does not otherwise acknowledge his disappearing guest.

"Good evening Gaius." Prince Arthur says in a voice that is really much deeper in person. The hairs on Merlin's arms stand up. His mind floods with a million teenage fantasies which make him blush to the tips of his ears and make him extremely grateful he's not presently visible. 

Gaius nods deferentially. "Good evening, Sire. What can I do for you?"

Merlin tunes out their conversation, focusing instead on the absolute and utter beauty of the man standing before him, close enough that Merlin could reach out and touch him (if he weren't currently pretending not to exist). The press photos and televised interviews do nothing for Arthur. His hair is not just blond but a million different shades from the light brown of dry earth to the shining gold of sunlit honey. His eyes are so blue it takes Merlin's breath away. And that jawline and those lips. And the breadth of those shoulders. 

Merlin's fingers itch for his sketch pad and his favourite charcoal pencil.

Arthur is wearing pyjamas that look as though they're designed by Gucci or some other, equally impressive, Italian designer. The gray t-shirt clings obsessively to Arthur's well-muscled chest, and the light fabric of the trousers accentuates the curve of Arthur's...

Jesus! Is Merlin honestly staring at the future king's arse? 

Compared to the golden god standing before him, Merlin feels like the most disgusting, unwashed human on the planet. Which probably isn't too far off the truth, actually.

Just as suddenly as he came in, Arthur is leaving again. Merlin waits for the door to shut behind _The Future King_ before he pulls himself back into being.

Gaius is staring at Merlin with that one eyebrow raised again.

Merlin only shrugs and says, "I didn't fancy meeting him just yet." before he begins inhaling the sandwich on his plate.

For some reason he is suddenly very, very hungry.

*

The following day Merlin awakes feeling grateful and relieved, but he can't quite figure out why. Then he remembers his close call and the fact that he was nearly forced to introduce himself to Prince Arthur while looking like a hungover peasant on a drugs binge and most likely smelling like a cow's areshole. His magic, although he curses it on a daily basis, has finally come in handy.

He rolls over and stares at the sculpted plaster ceiling towering above him. The room he is staying in is larger than the house he grew up in. It is embarrassingly large, and one of hundreds. Staff housing, as Gaius had helpfully told him. Gaius is accorded a higher privilege and stays in the Palace itself so that he is always on hand for emergencies. Merlin is to meet him at half past seven. Merlin presses a button on his ancient mobile phone and it flashes the time.  **7:10.**

"Buggering basterding fuck!" Merlin exclaims, leaping out of bed. His sketchbook and pencils go flying. He had taken a decadently long shower the evening before, relishing in the fact that the hot water lasted more than five and a half minutes, so at least he is clean. As he brushes his teeth hurriedly, he rakes through his rucksack and picks the least wrinkled shirt and trousers he can find. Disregarding Gaius's die warnings about not using magic under any circumstances, he uses his magic to will the fabric to relax slightly and is pleased to see that the result is an outfit that looks, if not ironed, at least like it hasn't spent the better part of two days squashed in a rucksack. He stuffs his sketchbook into his bag, slings it over his shoulder and gives himself a cursory glance in the mirror before he rushes out of the room, cursing the fact that the walk to where he is meeting Gaius doesn't pass anywhere where he could buy himself a coffee.

Once in the corridor, he barrels around a corner and, predictably, collides with someone coming in the opposite direction. She gives a small whimper before toppling backwards, arms flailing wildly. Merlin only just catches her before she hits the ground, and only then with the assistance of his magic.

"Oh, God! I'm so sorry!" Merlin stands the girl on her feet, her arms held lightly in his hands. She is quite flustered, but very beautiful. She has delicate features framed by curls and her brown eyes simply shine. 

"No, not at all, it's my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going. I'm sorry."

They stand in the corridor, smiling at each other, and Merlin realises he hasn't released her and promptly lets her go, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"I'm running a bit late, I'm afraid. It was nice meeting you." She says, blushing, and moving to the side so she can get past him.

"You've not."

"I'm sorry?" She asks, turning back, eyebrows raised.

"You've not met me. I'm Merlin." He holds out his hand. She grasps it and smiles.

"I'm Guinevere. Gwen. And I'm still late."

"Of course. Of course." Merlin says, finally letting her go. She hurries down the hallway away from him without looking back. 

Merlin stands for a few seconds longer and then remembers that he is late himself, and rushes back down the rest of the corridor.

*

"You're late." Gaius is obviously unimpressed by everything about Merlin this morning. Merlin can feel the disapproval rolling off him. He can also smell faint hints of coffee and he looks around greedily to find the source. 

"Aye, I ken." Merlin mutters, suppressing a grin and shrugging lazily, "Plus I've not had any coffee so I'm basically useless."

"So I guessed." Gaius says, handing over a takeaway cup of black coffee which Merlin grabs gratefully and starts to drink. It is not nice. "Young folk are so predictable. I also assumed that if I wanted you to be on time for anything I should tell you to be there earlier than I need you."

Merlin looks up from the cup of coffee he is basically inhaling to see the tail end of Gaius's amused smile, then he looks back down to his half-empty cup, wishing he'd taken the time to savour the coffee, even though it tastes as though it was brewed two weeks ago by someone with only the vaguest idea of what coffee should taste like.

"Busy day today, my boy." Gaius says, setting off through a set of large doors. Merlin follows, nodding encouragingly to the security guard standing discreetly just inside the doors. Merlin thinks that being a security guard must be one of the most boring jobs in the world. He can't imagine just having to stand by a door all day on the off chance that someone might come through it. Still, there is something quite sexy about a capable man in a tailored black suit. Merlin glances over his shoulder at the guard and decides that sexy is definitely the right word. 

Gaius keeps talking as they walk down corridor after corridor. Although he is very interested in what Gaius is saying, he's too distracted to listen properly. The previous day Merlin had been too exhausted to fully absorb the vastness of the Palace, and although he's sure he looks like a complete tourist, he can't stop his eyes from wandering from tapestry to painting and back again. He wishes he could sit for hours just examining the artwork hanging on these walls, but, as Gaius reminds him with a quick “Hurry up!”, he can't. At least not today. 

Before long they arrive at the bottom of a narrow, unadorned staircase. They turn right and then stop, face to face with a small man with a closed, pointed face.

"Merlin, this is George, the head of household staff. He's going to be teaching you etiquette. George, this is Merlin. Good luck."

Merlin watches Gaius leave and then turns back to George, holding out his hand, smiling.

"Hello." Merlin says, cheerfully. Except with his accent it comes out more like "hullo".

"Oh, Christ." George says, his face squishing up as though he is eating an entire lemon, "You're Scottish."

*

At the end of the day Merlin is just as exhausted as he had been the day before. He had spent the entire day with George and George's minions learning how to properly address various members of The Royal Family should he ever encounter any of them.

He's learned which parts of The Palace and grounds he's permitted in and which are off limits. He's learned that, if he passes the security and background checks, his ID badge will grant him access based on his clearance level. He's learned that Gaius, although he has no specified court greeting, is on a level with Lady Morgana and should be treated with equal deference and respect. He's learned that his own position is equal to that of the dust carried in from the forecourt on the bottom of shoes and not to kid himself otherwise. 

Tomorrow he will learn how to handle exterior media enquiries should he ever be questioned about his role within the Palace. It's another early start, and given that Gaius has not asked to see him, Merlin heads back to the dormitories early, planning to grab something to eat and then retire to an early bedtime. He somehow manages to navigate through the grounds in his zombie-like state. The coffee Gaius had given him had been his only cup of the day, which is unheard of, so, on top of his exhaustion, his head is pounding quite miserably. 

He can feel eyes on him as he enters the hall. George had explained that staff meals were included in their weekly wages, however, if he wanted anything decent to eat he was advised to arrive early. The canteen was open all day for self serve coffee and cold snacks, but hot meals were served at three precise times every day. Merlin glances at his watch and sighs, there is only five minutes left before the hot meal service ends. He decides not to even bother and heads straight to the refrigerator where there are still a decent selection of sandwiches available. He grabs one at random and then peruses the selection of juice. He decides on a Coke and turns to head out of the canteen and to his room.

"Hello." He's turned around and nearly walked into Gwen, again. "Merlin, isn't it?"

"Aye." Merlin says, feeling himself smile a genuine smile.

"Listen, a few of us are gathering in the common room this evening if you'd like to join us? We're just going to watch crap telly and gossip, but you'd be more than welcome to come along if you'd like." She's smiling that broad smile at him again and he decides that she is really, properly, beautiful.

"Thanks for the invite, but I don't know how good of company I'd be tonight." Merlin stifles a very well-timed yawn as he heads towards the door, Gwen walking beside him.

"Let me guess, you spent the day with George?"

"Aye." Merlin smiles. "He's... interesting."

"He's just about the most boring person I've ever met in my life." Gwen giggles at him under her breath. "I remember my days training with him. I don't think I've been that bored before or since! Did he tell you the story about the brass doorknobs?"

Merlin laughs out loud. "Twice."

They both smile and continue walking down the corridor in a companionable silence. There are small plaques on the walls with room numbers and arrows pointing which direction to go, which is a good thing because otherwise Merlin might have gotten lost in the maze of identical white doors.

"George actually asked me out once." Gwen admits, blushing prettily.

"No!" Merlin giggles.

"I had to find a way to let him down easily. He could get me fired, after all."

"That's not very appropriate, is it? He's technically our boss is he not?"

"Yep."

"Well, I'll be on my guard, then." Merlin says, as they finally arrive outside his door. “This is me." 

"Come along tonight, if you can." Gwen says, turning to continue down the hallway.

“Aye, I will at that."

The sound of his door shutting behind him makes him flinch in the darkness. The comfortable companionship he felt with Gwen has left him feeling cheerful, but the emptiness of his room resurrects the emptiness within himself.

Because of his rushed start this morning, he hasn't even unpacked. His rucksack is still exactly where he'd left it the night before.

He removes his leather bag from over his shoulder and lays it on his bed, then tosses his sandwich and the Coke onto it and flops down beside them.

The room is terribly large and terribly empty. Merlin turns his face towards his mother's portrait. He'd drawn it from a photograph, many years ago. She is laughing, her face turned towards the sky slightly, her eyes partially closed. She looks incredibly beautiful.

Merlin turns away again and stares at the ceiling. His mother would have laughed just like her picture if he'd told her that he was now a (provisional) member of staff for the Royal Family. He wants so badly to speak to her again, to laugh with her.

Merlin feels a panic roll over him as the heartbreak threatens to swallow him whole. 

He closes his eyes and lets his memories flood through him. Her laugh and her smile and the rich brown of her hair. Her standing in the kitchen of their home, wearing an apron and covered in flour. The wistfulness that entered her eyes when she spoke of his father. The smell of the wood fire burning, warming their home. The sound of the river pouring over the weir at the side of their property as the water rushed into the loch. The crisp smell of Caledonian Pine and the cold bite of early Scottish mornings fishing in the mist, his mother bundled in every item of clothing she owned so as not to catch a chill. 

He could not remember any part of his upbringing without thinking of his mother who is, in his mind, synonymous with _home_. 

Merlin digs his mobile phone from this pocket and sends a text message to Will. Then he decides it doesn't sound like what he means to say and sends another one.

 

[text from Merlin to Will: Hiya. How's things? London is weird. No Irn Bru in the canteen I think I may die of thirst.]  
[text from Merlin to Will: I miss you. I miss her.... Mxx]

Then, deciding to try and distract himself, Merlin grabs his shoulder bag and extricates his sketch pad and pencils.

Flipping almost all the way to the back he finds the page he'd been working on the previous evening. Not his mother, no, not for the first time in a long time. Prince Arthur. The image of him standing in Gaius's office the previous evening is still seared into his memory. He'd sketched something quickly the night before, but it needs cleaning up, so Merlin gets to work. 

After not too long, Merlin drifts off to sleep lying on his bed, fingers tinged gray from pencil marks, his sketchbook open on his pillow, his sandwich and bottle of coke untouched beside him and the light from a street lamp outside his window illuminating his mother's portrait.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know the Royals do not actually live in Buckingham Palace anymore, but they do in my story because I wrote it and I wanted them to. OK? :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 - In which Merlin is adorably clueless, Arthur is incredibly alone and the two of them (finally) meet.
> 
> No chapter specific tags, but there's a few bits with a more mature rating. 
> 
> Sometimes Merlin speaks Scottish - See end notes for translations if required.

#  **Chapter 4**

It's been two days and Merlin is still being treated as a provisional member of staff. He hasn't been granted a security badge which means he's unable to spend his limited free time outwith the Palace. Will, at least, is tired of Merlin's uninteresting answers to the "how's London?" texts he's been sending. It has also limited Merlin's ability to get to know many of his colleagues who spend more evenings than not out in the city, usually drinking.

Gwen has introduced him to a few of her closer acquaintances, and Merlin seems to find himself in her company most nights, which isn't something he's going to complain about. Although it means he's behind on his drawing, it mostly means he's not wallowing in depressive thoughts of his mother, either, which is definitely a good thing.

During the day he can be found either bored out of his head in one of George's pseudo lectures about class and status or in the grips of similar boredom sifting through dusty books in Gaius's study.

Thankfully, at the moment, he's in Gaius's office but the older man is nowhere to be found. Merlin takes the time to send a few e-mails and texts and then he just about gets his sketchbook out when the door opens.  

"Oh, Merlin, hello. I wasn't expecting you until after lunch." Gaius enters his office with an armful of books which Merlin jumps up to take off him. They are old and extremely heavy - how Gaius was managing under the weight, Merlin doesn't question, but most likely there's magic involved.

"Finished early." Merlin says, following Gaius's gestured instructions to put the books down on his desk.

"Excellent. Well, as you can see, we've got a lot to do." Gaius indicates the stack of books and Merlin's heart sinks. More reading.

"What are we looking for today?" Merlin asks, settling into what he's come to think of as his own armchair with the book from the top of the stack.

"I'm looking for a particular incantation. I'm sure it was a brown leather book with a tooled spine, but I can't remember which volume exactly."

 _God help him but Gaius does sound like an awfully old man sometimes_ , Merlin thinks, fondly.

"So we're going to look through all of the brown leather books in the library until we find the spell you're looking for?"

" _Incantation_. Not a spell. There's a difference." Gaius sounds pleasantly exasperated. "And yes, we are, so I suggest you stop talking and start reading."

"What's it a spell for?"

" _Incantation_ , Merlin." Gaius says, his voice rising.

"Oh, whichever." Merlin says, enjoying winding Gaius up. "What's it for?"

"Never you mind. Just look for the qualities I wrote down for you, and the ingredients."

Merlin opens the book to the first page and scans down the index which is less than useless. Not for the first time Merlin misses the tiny village library and modern reference texts which had made his secondary education easier. Even more than that he misses Google.

"You know, Gaius, we could probably make your library more usable by actively indexing everything. Fair enough it would be a major undertaking to begin with, but it would make life so much easier in the long run."

"Less talking, Merlin. More reading." Gaius says in a singsong voice, obviously changing the subject. Merlin laughs. Poor Gaius, he's basically allergic to technology. Still, Merlin thinks, turning pages carefully, there really should be some way to digitise this and make it more accessible.

*

Arthur returns from his run just after midnight. Although he attempted to stick to mostly residential areas of his city, he had encountered more people than he (and his security) had liked and had cut his run short. His father will most likely have something to say about that in the morning, and Arthur considers going to find his father and getting the jump on him, but then remembers the stack of homework he has to complete, and heads to his rooms instead

Unlike his friends, who are able to attend classes and even live on campus, Arthur’s popularity and status make it practically impossible for him to attend University like a normal student. Well, Uther makes it impossible in any case. That was one argument Arthur had no chance of winning. So Arthur is currently reading for his Master’s Degree in Environmental Planning and Design at Oxford, though he is taking all of his courses online.

His adviser has been very accomodating, and Arthur is nearly finished with his course even though the school year hasn’t begun yet for the normal students. This is how Arthur' has managed to complete two undergraduate courses and (almost) a Master's course even though he's barely 21. Uther prefers Arthur’s time to be occupied by study and encourages Arthur, which means that Arthur will either try for his PhD next, or get a second Master’s following this one. Maybe in Economics, if Uther approves.

Once in his chambers Arthur takes a quick shower, washing away the humid London air, and then settles himself behind his desk and takes out one of his text books. Maybe coursework will bring on sleep, which has been elusive since his return from France.

An hour later, Arthur wishes he hadn't bothered. It turns out that historic city design models and population analysis are not quite so conducive to sleep as he had imagined. At least his essay is finished, that's something. He sends the essay to his adviser, gathers his books together and puts them neatly back on their shelves.

Not feeling the least bit tired, Arthur considers going to Gaius for an _alternative_ solution to his insomia, but it’s just gone one in the morning and that’s far too late to call on the old man. He’ll speak to him tomorrow instead. So Arthur retires to his bed and tries to get some rest, at least, even if he doesn’t sleep.

*

"That's it." Tristan shouts, throwing the playing cards everywhere, "You MUST be cheating."

Merlin tries to keep a straight face but it's incredibly difficult with Gwen just over Tristan's shoulder nearly choking to death on stifled laughter. "I've no idea what you're on about, mate." He says, clearly convincing no one.

Gwen erupts into laughter and Tristan turns round to face her, jumping out of his chair. "YOU!" He exclaims, as Gwen, Merlin and Isolde collapse into peals of laughter. "You've been telling him my cards!"

Tristan storms across the common room, drawing amused looks from those not involved in their poker game. When he returns he goes straight to Isolde, wrapping her in a crushing hug and eliciting a squeal of delight.

"Even my wife!" He says, joining in with their laughter, finally. "I blame you, Merlin. You're a bad influence on them!"

"He's no such thing, Tris, you're just a sore loser!" Isolde says, kissing her husband affectionately on the top of his head.

"This is brilliant, Merlin. Tristan hasn't lost this badly at poker since we were kids." Tristan's younger sister, Freya, laughs before she, too, gets swept into a crushing hug with Isolde. 

"In a fair game, I'd beat you, Merlin, you know that, right?" Tristan says, not entirely joking.

"You're better at poker than you look." Freya says, catching Merlin with her wide, brown eyes. Her smile is sort of crooked and Merlin can't help but smile back at her.

"Or better at _cheating_!" Tristan says, cuffing Merlin on the shoulder. "We'll have to have a rematch. Issy, it's your deal."

"Can I get a rain check on that, Tris? I've got an early start tomorrow." Merlin interrupts before Isolde can start shuffling.  

"Likely story!" Tristan singsongs, laughing. "You're just scared!"

The taunt doesn't work on Merlin who does, indeed, have an early morning. Gwen rises from the table and links arms with Merlin as he swings his shoulder bag over his head. "I think I'll call it a night, too, actually." Merlin is incredibly grateful for Gwen. She seems to sense that he's only pretending to be happy enough to fit in, and he's glad she can tell. It's so hard to pretend to be OK, but if he is ever going to actually start to feel OK again he needs to make friends here in London, so for now he pretends. 

"In that case," Isolde says, giving her husband a significant look, "I think it's bedtime for me, too."

By the look on Tristan's face, Issy's attempt at subtlety isn't lost on her husband, who rushes back to her side and scoops her up into his arms.

"Another time, then, Merlin. Later, all!" Tristan says. Issy giggles happily and couries into his arms as he carries her into the corridor.

"Gross!" Freya shouts at their backs as they leave. Then, laughing, she turns her attention to collecting the playing cards which the others have left scattered. Merlin stoops to help her.

"So, Merlin, how are you finding London?" Freya asks.

"Well, I've not actually been out into the city. Probation.”

"Oh, so you haven't been allowed out yet?"

Merlin just shakes his head, feigning incredible sadness. Freya and Gwen both laugh and Merlin smiles at them.

”But, it shouldn't be too much longer. At least that's what Gwen says."

"It took them less than a week for me." Gwen says, shrugging.

"Took them two weeks for us, but there were three of us, so…” Freya says. Merlin is about to say that he hopes he's not stuck inside the grounds for another week when he reaches for the same card as Freya and their hands touch.

Freya draws her hand away too fast, giggling. Merlin, feeling very confused, glances over at Gwen to see her hiding a laugh.

"It's not so bad, being stuck here, though." Freya says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Is it?"

Merlin wonders whether she maybe has something in her eye, because she keeps blinking at him really slowly in a kind of lopsided way.

"Well, no, but I'm desperate to get out there." Merlin says, rising, gathering all the cards into one stack and leaving them on the table.

"It's overrated, if you ask me." Freya says, still blinking at him in a strange way. "But I'd be happy to take you out sometime, show you around."

Gwen coughs slightly and Freya glares at her, her eyes wide. Merlin looks at both of them, wondering what he's missing.

"Aye, well, that'd be great." He says, slowly, not entirely sure he knows precisely what's going on.

When they get into the corridor Freya gestures in the opposite direction of where Gwen and Merlin are headed.

"Call on me sometime, then. Room 163." Freya walks away, smiling back at Merlin over her shoulder.

"Aye, sounds good. Cheers." Merlin says to her, and he and Gwen watch her turn around a corner and out of sight. At which point Gwen dissolves into not-entirely-silent giggles.

"What?" Merlin asks, utterly bewildered. "What's funny?"

"Ohhh! Merlin, look at you go!" Gwen gasps between giggles. "You sure don't waste your time, do you?"

They walk together towards Gwen's room, Merlin looking askance at Gwen, his eyebrows raised.

"What are you on about?"

"What do you mean, ‘what am I on about'?" Gwen says, unlocking her door and shrugging out of her jacket. Merlin removes his shoulder bag, and leans it against the bottom of her armchair which he flops into unceremoniously. "You've got a date!" Gwen says, excitedly.

"A date?" Merlin asks, like he doesn't know the definition of the word.

"With Freya, yeah."

"What? What do you mean I've got a date?" Merlin asks jumping back out of the armchair as though it's on fire.

"She just asked you out and you said you'd call on her."

"But not for a date! I can't date her!" Merlin can hear his voice rising to roughly the pitch of a pre-pubescent girl's.

"Well, you're going to have to, you told her you would." Gwen says, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

Merlin paces back and forth, confused as to why Gwen isn't joining him in his state of panic.

"Why are you so upset, she's cute isn't she?"

"Well, aye."

"And you're not dating anyone else, are you?"

"Well, no."

"But." Gwen says, almost accusingly. She then cocks her head at Merlin as though seeing him for the first time. "Oh!" She exclaims, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Merlin, you don't think that you and I are...that we're...that we...do you? Because we're not. As lovely as I think you are, you're really not my type."

Now it's Merlin's turn to look at Gwen as though he's never seen her before. "No, Gwen, no! I mean, I can't date her because I'm gay!"

Merlin stands for a second waiting for Gwen to react in some way. After a few moments of complete silence, Gwen erupts into laughter.

"Oh, Merlin, you adorable idiot. You'd better go and find the poor girl. Didn't you know she was asking you out?"

"No!" Merlin shouts. "I've never been asked out before, how should I know what it's like?"

“What? How can you never have been asked out before?"

"Eighty people in the village, Gwen. EIGHTY."

Gwen collapses back on the bed in a fit of helpless giggles. Merlin, tutting at her impatiently, lets himself out of her room and goes to find room 163. He figures he'd better tell Freya now so they're both on the same page.

Completely mortified, Merlin rushes down the corridor.

Asked out? On his fourth day in London? What the hell is going on?

 _Wait._ Merlin actually stops in the corridor. _Is he attractive in London?_

Merlin shakes his head. No. Impossible. Maybe Freya is just weird.

 _Asked out!_ Merlin smiles to himself. _Wait until I tell Will. He'll be on the next train to London._

*

Arthur walks through the Palace gardens, slowly sipping his cooling coffee. The café he'd stopped at on the return from his run was not technically open yet, but Arthur was friendly with the proprietor and stopped in most Thursdays on his way back from his longest run of the week. This morning's route had been lengthy and circuitous and had lasted quite a bit longer than he'd originally thought. He'd wanted to see the river again, it being another glorious morning, so he'd headed south west to Battersea Park through Belgravia and had returned via Chelsea and Knightsbridge to his favourite, and basically unknown café near Belgrave Square Garden.

When he'd been waiting in the cafe he'd received a text from his father. 

[text from the King to Arthur: We're entertaining visitors this afternoon, please be prepared to receive at 14:00 in the Blue Room.]  
[text from the King to Arthur: They are wizards, before you ask, and I will not have any of your grumbling.]

Which means that now Arthur's afternoon will consist of being overly polite to a sanctimonious young man that Arthur will undoubtedly find unappealing while his Father attempts to forge a connection where there is none and slyly quizzes their guests about their family tree.

Arthur considered turning back to the city and running until his legs failed him, just to see how far away he could get.

Instead he attempts to buy coffees for the six members of the Royal Protection Command who accompanied him on his run, but they all refuse. He strikes up a conversation with John, the proprioter of the café, but he is busy and hasn’t time to talk properly. The walk back to the gate is practically silent, and once they enter the private grounds, five of his guards melt away and Arthur is now walking with just one - a hulking brute of a man with a shockingly short haircut. Arthur thinks his name might be Valiant, but he is never sure about these things, so he doesn't guess.

Arthur clears his throat and attempts to engage the man in conversation, but his companion responds in clipped, one-word answers which Arthur tires of quickly, and they lapse back into silence.

They're passing the staff dormitories when someone behind them speaks unexpectedly, his thick Scottish accent heavy with the morning.

"Where'd you get that _coffee_ ?" The man (or is he a boy? He looks _young_.) asks, coming closer. The brutish guard turns at once to block him from getting near Arthur, pushing him more roughly than Arthur thinks is necessary.

The young man startles, his head whipping up and his blue, blue eyes looking around, shocked.

"Oh, Christ. You're...you're...you're _Arthur_." The boy chokes out, his accent making the R’s sound like waterfalls. Arthur feels the hairs on his neck tingle, but he only stares at the boy, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Look, I'm not wanting trouble. I'd not have asked if I'd known it was you." The boy raises his hands in front of himself in an apology and shakes his head, his cheeks tinged with an embarrassed blush, his thick mop of messy black hair falling into his face. He raises one impossibly thin arm and pushes his hair back with a long-fingered hand, tucking a curl behind his ear.

Arthur nods curtly at the guard to relax his hold on the boy who slumps in on himself and takes a few steps back, hands still raised.

"I'm sorry." The boy says, backing even further away.

"The Dawn Treader." Arthur says, surprising himself. He can feel the ghost of a smile on his face. The boy stops backing away, eyes wide. "The coffee. It's from The Dawn Treader, Groom Place. That way." Arthur points with the hand holding the coffee cup. "They don't open until seven, though."

"The Dawn Treader? Like the book?" 

Arthur smiles a genuine smile. "Yes, like the book." He wouldn't have expected anyone to pick up on that so quickly. "They've got the best coffee within walking distance." Arthur pauses, thinking it through. "Only don't go telling everyone or I won't be able to go back." The last thing he wants is for the press to find out about his favourite coffee shop.

"Right. _Right_. Well, thank you. And, I'm sorry. Again." The boy says, his eyes pleading. Arthur looks at the still bristling security guard and remembers their failed attempt at conversation. He flashes forward to the afternoon and evening he has ahead of him, the tedious and vapid conversations, the awkwardness, and then he makes a split-second decision. His father would lecture him hoarse about the risks of consorting with _the help_ , but just in this instant, Arthur doesn't care. He holds out his hand, the one not holding the coffee cup.

"I'm Arthur."

The boy freezes and exchanges a look of utter disbelief (or is it terror?) with Arthur's security guard who is still eyeing him suspiciously.

"Aye, I ken." One more awkward glance and then the boy gives in with a shrug and grins a rather timid grin. "I'm Merlin." He takes Arthur's hand; he is even thinner than Arthur had thought at first, and Arthur is surprised at the strength of his handshake. Arthur notices that, although he has obviously just come from staff housing, he is not wearing the ubiquitous Palace Staff Uniform, but a worn black t-shirt and perfectly faded denims. His hands are rough, his fingers calloused and smudged with something like ink.

"Nice to meet you, Merlin. Are you new here?" Arthur says, affecting an overly formal manner, and feeling heavily scrutinised by the brutish guard.

"Aye. It's my first week." His accent really is beautiful. _He_ really is beautiful. Arthur begins to feel strangely undone, and it's not a feeling he entirely dislikes.

"Well, we'll let you off this time, but you should know that speaking to the heir of the throne without being addressed directly is a hanging offence."

Merlin tilts his head slightly to the side and narrows his eyes in a rather endearing gesture as though he can't believe that Arthur is actually making a joke.

"Ach, well, I'll try and not do that in future, then." Merlin smiles, the gesture going all the way to those blue eyes, and Arthur's heart basically explodes.

"Make sure you don't." Arthur replies. The two of them stand, smiling at each other for a few more moments, the guard looking both annoyed and confused.

Arthur takes a closer look at the boy, noticing everything from his too-long black hair which looks like it needs cut, to his too-thin arms which make him look like he needs fed. He's almost painfully good looking, and before Arthur can stop himself he's imagining all sorts of situations where the two of them are alone together, a lot less awkward and a lot more naked. Suddenly Arthur has to concentrate very hard on not becoming very hard.

"Merlin! There you are! I've been looking for you. You left your bag in my room last ni... Oh." An attractive girl with dark skin is walking towards their group, her curls bouncing. She stops short when she sees Arthur and gives a brief, heavily rehearsed, curtsy. "Your highness." She bows her head demurely.

"Gwen!" Merlin chokes out, the embarrassed blush on his cheeks refreshes itself. Arthur renews his silent concentration, but his brain is instead replaying the girl's words. _In her room last night._

Oh.

Arthur looks at the way Merlin smiles at her, and the way she touches his arm. They must be a couple. Arthur can't help feeling deflated. He'd honestly been about five seconds away from asking Merlin out on a date. Which is something he has never, ever done in his entire life - especially not a member of staff!

However, it seems as though this Merlin kid works fast, if he's dating this Gwen girl already and he's only been here a week.

Then Arthur's brain catches up to him once more and he practically blurts out, "Morgana's Gwen?"

"Her maid, yes, Sire." Gwen bows her head and half curtsies again.

"My cousin speaks very highly of you."

Gwen, Arthur can see, is gripping Merlin's arm hard enough to break it, eliciting an audible gasp. Arthur wonders whether Merlin will bruise. Then Arthur wonders how hard he would have grip the boy's shoulders, or his hips, to make him gasp like that. How hard he'd have to grip to make him bruise.

Then he's trying to picture his great-grandmother naked in the shower. Anything, _anything_ to prevent himself from getting visibly aroused on the path outside the staff quarters.

"Thank you, sir." Is all Gwen says. Merlin smiles encouragingly at her, then beams at Arthur.

To save himself picturing a million different ways he could make Merlin smile like that again, Arthur excuses himself as politely as possible, then turns to walk away, his guard following a few paces behind.

Upon his return to his chambers Arthur gets George on the phone and requests to see Merlin's personnel file.

Then he takes a very long, very hot shower, during which he relieves his earlier frustration while imagining Merlin's blue eyes looking up at him from a tangle of sheets on his bed.

Later that afternoon while he's trying (and failing) to get some more coursework done Arthur almost has himself convinced that he should just go ahead and ask Merlin out, regardless of Gwen.

After which he remembers Gaius telling him how, before Arthur was born, his father had been unfaithful, and how it had almost killed Arthur's mother and brought down the entire monarchy. Because of this Arthur has been raised to loathe unfaithfulness. His beliefs are iron-cast and unshakable. He would never be the other man, and he would never tolerate an unfaithful partner.

For Arthur it's an absolute deal breaker.

So he will not pursue the boy. Not until he can discover the nature of his relationship with Gwen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ken means "know"  
> *courie means "nestle or snuggle"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 - In which Arthur (slightly) abuses his position of authority and Merlin's sass gets him into some hot water.
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

**Chapter 5**

"You were talking to Prince Arthur! You were actually _talking_ to him! I can't believe it!"

It is night and Merlin is sprawled on an armchair in Gwen's room, his sketch pad propped against one bent knee, though he isn't really using it. Gwen is lying on her stomach on her bed, her voice higher than normal due to excitement.

"You curtsied!" Merlin giggles. "You actually curtsied!"

"Well, that's what we're _supposed_ to do." Gwen defends herself. "Didn't you listen to anything George said?”

"Naw." Merlin says, honestly, and Gwen collapses into giggles.

"He's just what a prince ought to look like, isn't he?" Gwen says in a wistful voice, once she has regained her composure. "That gorgeous blond hair and those blue eyes! Oh!" Gwen feigns swooning. "Now, Arthur, _he's_ my type."

"Ach, I don't know," Merlin says, sitting up properly in the chair. "I'm sure I saw a twinge of inbreeding in that chiselled jaw."

"Merlin!" Gwen exclaims, looking over her shoulder, checking for spies. "You can't say stuff like that!"

"Ha, ha." Merlin says, rolling his eyes and gathering his things together.

"You're telling me that Prince Arthur doesn't make _Little Merlin_ want to stand up, salute, and sing a lengthy chorus of 'God Save the (future) King'?" Merlin can't respond without blushing like an idiot, so instead he rises from the chair and makes his way to the door. "Where are you going?"

"I'm off to my bed. Apparently meeting the heir to the throne is _exhausting_." Merlin says, sarcastically.

"I was only teasing you." Gwen says, a frown on her face. Merlin wonders how to explain that he's just not in the mood to laugh right now? Gwen, though, seems to understand, and doesn't question his quick departure. "See you tomorrow?"

"Aye." Merlin nods at her with half a smile then retreats into the corridor. At the door to his room he decides not to go in - he can't bear another lonely night staring longingly at his mother's portrait. But he doesn't feel like having company, either. Instead he hitches his leather bag over his shoulder, puts his sketchbook away and heads out into the grounds. As he walks alone he puts his headphones on and cues up The Proclaimers' "Sunshine on Leith", which was his Mother's favourite song. He listens to it a few times, tears in his eyes, before realising that his solitary wanderings are just as bad as being in his room alone, changes his music to Idlewild instead of The Proclaimers and decides to text Will.

[text conversation between Merlin and Will:  
**Merlin:** Met HRH today. He's better looking in person.  
**William:** The King?  
**Merlin:** Ha ha. Arthur.  
**William:** Oooohhhh! Did u cum in ur pants?  
**Merlin:** Nearly.  
**William:** Lol. U luuuurve him!  
**Merlin:** Fuck off.  
**William:** Fuck who? Lol.]

Merlin laughs out loud at this but doesn't respond. Feeling suddenly much better about life in general, Merlin decides to avoid the inevitable rain guaranteed by the darkening skies, and goes off in search of Gaius. A late night spent reading indecipherable magic texts will absolutely drive thoughts of his mother out of his mind.

*

The afternoon had not gone well. The prospective suitor his father had brought to introduce to Arthur had barely been fifteen, and had been so utterly terrified to be invited to Buckingham Palace that he'd practically fainted when Arthur shook his hand. Uther, for his part, had recognised his mistake very early on and had turned the introduction into a sort of tour, which meant their meeting had lasted less than an hour. He had even apologised to Arthur. Sort of.

Arthur had used his newly freed afternoon to meet with his course advisor to discuss his latest essay assignment. Halfway through the video conference with his advisor George had arrived with the personnel paperwork Arthur had requested, leaving it on his desk without interrupting Arthur's conversation.

Arthur manages to focus on his coursework for almost an hour after that, but his eyes constantly seek out the folder on the corner of his desk and eventually he gives in. He sends to the kitchens for some coffee, then settles himself into an armchair beside a small table in the corner of his office and begins to read.

 _Merlin Emrys_. An unusual name, for sure, but nothing alarming there. _17\. Born and raised in the Scottish village of Ealdor. Only son of Balinor Emrys, deceased, and Hunith Myrddin, deceased._ Deceased very recently. _Legal guardian: Gaius._

Arthur stares at the paperwork, eyebrows furrowed. If Gaius is his legal guardian, Arthur feels like he should know about him. Or have heard his name before, at least. For some reason Arthur feels cheated, left out, somehow.

There is nothing of interest whatsoever in Merlin's file. He doesn't seem to have done anything at all in his entire life apart from live and work in Ealdor. His mother worked as a barmaid in the local hotel bar (aptly named The Prince and Crown), and his father was the livestock manager at a local farm. His next of kin is listed as someone named William. _Not Gaius, then_. Arthur wonders what their relationship is, if Gaius is Merlin's legal guardian but not his next of kin, and he decides the best way to answer that question is to speak to Gaius.

Arthur pages through the rest of the file. According to Merlin’s school reports he was a gifted student who was not challenged by the curriculum. He passed with high marks in every subject. The notes from his teachers are particularly glowing.

By the time Arthur finishes reading the file he is no closer to knowing Merlin any better. This file could just as well have been describing Arthur.

Arthur closes the file and puts it to one side. Rising from his chair in a long stretch, he checks his watch and decides he'd better go and see Gaius before the older man retires for the evening.

It'll give him a chance to collect a sleeping draught as well, see if Gaius can cure his insomnia. Arthur could have the draught delivered by any anonymous member of staff, but he enjoys going to see Gaius. It reminds him of being a child when Gaius was always there in the room next door. Sometimes, Arthur thinks, sadly, it’s the only conversation he has all day. Especially if, as now, Morgana is out of the country.

At least when Morgana is in London Arthur has someone here in the Palace he can talk to. Of course Lance, Leon, Gwaine, and the rest of the boys are usually on hand if he needs them, but none of them live in the city, and it's nice to have someone nearby. Perhaps that was why he so eagerly started a conversation with Merlin? Because he hadn’t spoken to anyone, properly, since leaving France? Well, whatever the reason, Arthur’s not sorry.

When Arthur enters Gaius's office he is surprised, but not unhappy, to see Merlin there and not Gaius. Merlin is standing behind Gaius's desk, bending over a very large book, one hand tugging absentmindedly at a lock of hair, and the other hand at his mouth where he appears to be gnawing on his thumbnail.

Merlin obviously hasn't realised Arthur is there yet, he's so engrossed in his work. Arthur is fascinated to see him like this and stands for a few moments just watching. When he begins to feel as though his continued gaze may be bordering on creepy, he strides purposely towards the desk and clears his throat. Merlin’s head jolts up, a startled look on his face for a moment before he smiles a relaxed, genuine smile.

"Hello." That accent again. Shit.

"Good evening. Where is Gaius?"

"Out. Can I help?"

Arthur regards him imperiously for a moment. On the one hand, he is certainly not used to being spoken to in such a manner. On the other hand it's such a surprising turn on that Arthur’s eyes widen and he exhales audibly. He collects himself enough to speak. "Gaius sometimes prepares a sleeping draught for me." Arthur says, putting the empty vial he'd brought with him on the edge of the desk.

Merlin nods and then points to a glass-fronted cabinet halfway along the wall. "Aye, I ken. He keeps them in there. Help yourself. The green bottles." And then he turns back to his book.

Arthur stares at the top of Merlin's head for a few seconds, his temper rising. "I don't know what it's like where you're from, but here in London we respect our superiors."

Merlin looks at him and then quirks his mouth into an intriguingly crooked smile that makes Arthur's jeans suddenly feel too small. "I'm sorry. I meant, help yourself, my Lord." Merlin says, his voice low, after which he bows his head slightly and looks directly into Arthur's eyes before turning back to his book.

Arthur, momentarily lost for words, has to physically restrain himself from climbing over Gaius's desk and taking Merlin bodily against the wall. Then he thinks about what Merlin has said, his deliberate insubordination, and decides it's probably more sensible to get angry with Merlin. So he does.

"You can't speak to me like that." He says, thankfully sounding more exasperated than turned on.

"Hmm." Merlin says, regarding Arthur curiously, still with that crooked smile on his face. "I suppose the press must have gotten it wrong all these years." He finally steps out from behind the desk, walking lazily towards the cabinet. Arthur notices he is now wearing the staff uniform, but somehow he makes it look like something you'd wear to a rock concert. How does he do that?

"What do you mean?" Arthur asks, turning his head to follow Merlin’s progress across the room.

"Well, they say you play rugby."

"I do."

"And polo."

"Yes."

"And, apparently, you're quite fond of running." Merlin says, reaching the cabinet and opening it, withdrawing a green vial and closing it again, turning back towards where Arthur is standing.

"I am."

"Well, that’s hard for me to believe, is all."

"And why is that, exactly?" Arthur asks, his temper finally showing in his voice, as Merlin comes very close indeed and holds out the small green bottle to Arthur. When Merlin speaks again his voice is almost a whisper.

"Considering you're not physically capable of walking across a room and opening a cabinet by yourself, I find it hard to believe that you're such a sportsman."

Arthur's cheeks begin to flush and, he tells himself, it has nothing to do with the fact that he and Merlin's fingers have brushed together. However, thankfully, his irritation wins out against his hormones.

"You can't speak to me like that." Arthur repeats, finding it difficult to form sentences when he is fighting so hard not to lean forward and kiss that lopsided grin right off Merlin's beautiful face. How has he not noticed those cheekbones? Holy Jesus God.

"So you've said." Merlin laughs, turning away from Arthur and going back to his book. "If that's all?"

Arthur stands for a few moments more, in absolute disbelief, watching the top of Merlin's head as he leans closer to the text of the massive book he's gone back to reading, but decides he isn't capable of arguing with him at this point in time. Not with his emotions so confused. So he leaves without another word. He's almost sure he hears Merlin laugh again as he shuts the door.

As Arthur calms down and his brain has more blood supply available, he becomes increasingly annoyed by the boy's behaviour, and by the time Arthur arrives back in his rooms he decides he should have wanted to hit Merlin rather than kiss him.

So Arthur calls upon George, the head of the household, and insists that Merlin be reprimanded for his insolence.

After that Arthur takes a suspiciously long shower (not dwelling at all on Merlin's cheekbones), then retires to his bed in high spirits, quite looking forward to meeting Merlin again so they can discuss Merlin's punishment and see whether it has had any effect.

*

Merlin stays standing for approximately two seconds after Arthur leaves the room, then collapses into Gaius's chair with a nervous giggle.

_What was that, then?_

Apparently, when alone in a room with the subject of all of his most vivid adolescent fantasies, Merlin's instinct is to flirt a little and be a prick.

"I've just passed Prince Arthur. Did you speak to him? What did he want?" Gaius asks, entering his office from the corridor, then, "What on Earth are you doing, boy?"

"Banging my head on the desk." Merlin replies, his voice muffled against the pages of the book.

"Well, don't let me interrupt." Gaius says, completely seriously, passing Merlin and going into his private study.

Merlin raises his head and glares after Gaius. Then he turns back to the text but decides his concentration is effectively shot. Unless you count concentrating on the glorious blue of Arthur's eyes, that is. As he marks his place in the book and closes it to resume his study the following day, he hears Gaius's phone ring through the closed door.

He's gathering his belongings into his bag when Gaius re-enters the office.

"Well, it seems you _did_ speak with Arthur after all." Gaius says, disappointment and amusement evident in his tone of voice. Merlin freezes. "That was George. You're to report to his office first thing tomorrow morning for a disciplinary review and to receive your instructions. Is that understood?"

"Instructions?"

"Yes. Apparently Arthur was very specific." Gaius shakes his head but looks as though this is something he has been expecting since he first met Merlin. "You will return to this office after you have finished with George, even if it is late. Yes?"

"Yes, Gaius."

"I don't know what you could have possibly done to anger Arthur, but as long as it didn't involve another one of your miraculous disappearing tricks, I'm delighted."

*

"You're telling me they made you hand wash all of Arthur's sports gear? By hand?" Gwen asks, trying not to laugh.

Merlin is, once again, draped over Gwen's armchair, sulking. His hands are red-raw from the hot soapy water he's spent the day washing Arthur's sports clothes in.

"Every single bit. Socks, shoes, shorts. Everything." Merlin moans. "I've repetitive motion strain." He sighs, long-suffering.

"Oh, hush. Don't exaggerate. From what you've told me you got off light! I'm surprised you didn't get suspended. You shouldn't have mouthed off like that to Prince Arthur!" Gwen is crunching her way through a packet of crisps and Merlin's stomach rumbles.

"I'm surprised I didn't get the sack, actually, but I couldn't help myself. He's such a...prat."

"Merlin!" Gwen shouts, looking over her shoulder as though she expects the Royal Protection Command to burst into her room. "You can't say stuff like that about the Royal Family! You've got to watch out or you'll get in serious, proper trouble."

"What are they going to have me do next? Actually _dress_ Arthur in his sports kit?" Merlin meets Gwen's eyes and they start to giggle uncontrollably.

"Listen, Merlin," Gwen says, once they've managed to calm down, "You're still on probation, and if you fail your probation they'll make you go back to Scotland."

Merlin, his heart suddenly aching with loneliness again, thinks perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad thing. Gwen, naturally, misses nothing.

"Oh! That's what this is. You're _hoping_ to get fired!"

Merlin only shrugs. Maybe that is, subconsciously, his plan. Maybe he is slacking off and being rude to royalty on the off chance he'll be sent home. If that is the case, though, it's only because he honestly feels like he's being held here against his will. If only he could afford to go back home...

 _Home, where he doesn't have an accent and where everyone knows him._

_Home, where his friends are._

_Home, where every single thing he looks at will remind him of his mother..._

"I can't believe you saw him again." Gwen muses, startling Merlin out of his memories with the sound of her crushing the empty crisp packet and throwing it in the general direction of the bin. "I've worked here for two years and I've only seen him the one time, and you were there!"

"But you're Morgana's assistant." Merlin says, questioningly.

"So?"

"So they're practically inseparable, Gwen. How is it that you spend so much time with Morgana and you haven't ever seen Arthur?"

Gwen seems to consider the question seriously and then only shrugs. "Maybe it's because I'm a girl." There is a curious tone in Gwen's voice which shows that perhaps this isn't something she's ever considered before. "The Palace does have a way of keeping the female members of staff as far away from Arthur as possible."

"If he weren’t gay, I’d fear they were afraid of a scandal!" Merlin giggles.

"He _is_ fairly dreamy." Gwen says, her voice now wistful.

Merlin remembers the golden gleam of his hair, the sturdiness of his jaw and the pale blue of his eyes. "Aye, he is, at that."

Merlin looks down at the unfinished page in his sketchbook where you can clearly see the outline of Arthur's face. He sighs heavily and slams the book shut. He looks up to see Gwen watching him with a very knowing look on her face and resigns himself to the inevitable teasing.

"You have a crush on Arthur!"

Now it's Merlin's turn to check over his shoulder for the Royal Protection Command, but he concedes. "Of course I have a crush on Arthur! He's perfect!"

"I don't think _perfect_ is the right word, do you?" Gwen says, laughing. "He's awfully conceited."

"He's got a right to be, though." Merlin says, unable to help the defensive tone of his voice. Gwen just laughs, which makes Merlin even more defensive. "He's got TWO undergraduate degrees, he's working on his postgraduate, he's very active in a lot of charities, AND," Merlin continues over Gwen's increasingly loud laughter.

"He's handsome, funny, rich."

"Oh, Gwen, come on, it's not that at all..." Merlin tries to defend himself but blushes, too, which does nothing for his cause.

"Oh, no, it couldn't possibly be those broad shoulders or that smile."

"Gwen, please! It's not like that!"

Finally, Gwen seems to clock on to the fact that Merlin doesn't want to be teased about this, so she stops laughing, looking at him and taking note of his red cheeks. "You really do have a crush on him, don't you?"

"Yeah, I really, really do." Merlin says, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You know that's ridiculous, though, right?" Gwen says, obviously trying to set him straight without being too insensitive. "I mean, he's _Prince Arthur_."

"I know." Merlin says, feeling strangely heartbroken and overwhelmingly homesick. He, very embarrassingly, has to swallow tears. Gwen comes over and puts her hand on his knee. He can't help but wish it were his mother's hand and that she were the one comforting him wile simultaneously hating that he wishes that.

"Oh, Merlin, love. Listen, you'll probably never even see him again."

Merlin, whose emotions are all over the place to begin with because of everything, swallows a few times then clears his throat. "I know it's stupid. I'm being stupid, but I can't help myself. At least my ridiculous crush is helping me keep my mind off my mother. That's something, right?"

Gwen just looks at him very sadly, then pulls him into a hug. "We'll find a healthier way of getting your mind off her, Merlin. It's not going to do you any good to get hung up on Arthur when you don't have even the remotest chance of ever sharing more than polite conversation with him. What about your drawings?"

Merlin flips his sketchbook open to an Arthur page, proving that his drawing is not a safe distraction.

"Right. Well, what about London, then? Big city and all?"

"I'm on probation, Gwen, remember?"

"You won't always be, though. What about exploring London? There's certainly enough out there to divert you."

"Well, Freya said she'd show me around." Merlin says, shrugging. As much as he'd looked forward to getting out into the city, over the past week he's mostly lost his enthusiasm for the idea.

"No, no!" Gwen exclaims rising from the floor and rushing to her bookshelves. "That's no good at all. Freya will be able to show you where to get a Costa coffee, but she doesn't know anything about London. Not _really_."

Gwen hands Merlin a well-worn paperback book.

"Read this, then we'll talk."

Merlin doesn't have a chance to examine the book properly because just at that second his phone vibrates. He checks it, a text from Gaius.

[text from Gaius to Merlin: Palace. Come at once if convenient.]  
[text from Gaius to Merlin: If inconvenient come anyway.]

Merlin laughs, despite himself, he should never have admitted to Gaius the he, too, was a fan of BBC Sherlock. The old man's been teasing him ever since.

"That's Gaius, I'm off." Merlin stashes the book in his leather bag, then looks pleadingly at Gwen. "Shall I pop round later?"

"As much as I'd love to, I can't. Morgana is back from France tomorrow so I'll be on call early." To Gwen's credit, she infuses the words with the absolute minimum bitterness.

"Lunch?" Merlin says, heading to the door.

"Count on it."

As Merlin heads across the grounds in the gathering dusk, he thinks over what Gwen has said. He agrees with her that he needs a strictly non-Arthur diversion, but he can't help but hope that he'll at least see Arthur again. Even if all they ever do share is polite conversation.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 - In which Arthur grows restless and Merlin hatches a brilliant plan.
> 
> There are no chapter specific tags, however, there is some drinking (which may lead to some flirting) and Gwaine makes a distinct impression.
> 
> Scottish translations in end notes if you need them.

**Chapter 6**

Arthur wakes in the darkness, a gasp of terror seizing him. It takes him a long few moments to realise he’s alone in his room and not under threat. He must have cried out, because two members of the Royal Protection Command arrive in his room within seconds, alert and ready for action. Arthur dismisses them with a shaking hand and sits up in his bed, trying to make sense of his surroundings. 

Not one to normally suffer from nightmares, Arthur feels wholly shaken by this unexpected event. There had been a terrifying man with long, silver hair and beard, and eyes that glowed like golden fire. Ostensibly, Arthur assumes, he'd been trying to save Arthur's life, but he'd been absolutely the most terrifying and powerful being Arthur had ever seen.

Arthur paces the floor of his room for a few moments before giving up on sleep entirely. It is not late enough for a run, the streets will be crawling with people. Instead he texts Charlie to see who’s on shift at The Gallery, and not too long after that he can be found surreptitiously exiting an unmarked vehicle a discreet distance from the museum and entering the arranged entrance casually.

"Evening Charlie!" Arthur says with a smile, clapping the guard on the shoulder. "How's the family? How's Tricia enjoying Uni?"

"Good evening, Sir. Yes, they're well. Tricia has settled in nicely, but Andrea misses her terribly." 

Arthur nods, still smiling. "And how's little Liam holding up now his big sister's out of the house?"

"Trying to convince us to let him move into her room, Sir." Charlie replies, leading Arthur into the darkened museum.

"I bet he is!" Arthur laughs. "Say hello to them for me, Charlie."

"Of course, Sir." Charlie nods. "Where would you like to visit tonight?"

"Impressionists, if you please." Arthur says, having made his decision in the car.

"Of course, sir. I'll make the arrangements."

"Thank you, Charlie." Arthur says, shaking his hand and watching him make his way to the control room. He knows without looking that his Royal Protection Guards are stationed covertly at each entrance to the building, and that Charlie will have one or two for company in the control room, but, once again, he's grateful that they don't feel the need to accompany him on his wanders through the museum.

Uncharacteristically, Arthur feels a vague sort of loneliness creep in as he studies brush strokes and lighting techniques, and for the first time in a long time Arthur wishes there were someone standing beside him.

Someone, perhaps, with unruly dark hair and vibrant blue eyes.

*

Merlin is late. The alarm on his pathetically ancient phone has packed it in again. If he hadn't been wakened by a rather gruesome nightmare, he may have missed work entirely.

As it is, he arrives very late, very dishevelled, and supremely de-caffeinated, having had to skip his coffee for fear of being skinned alive by an irate Gaius.

"Sorry I'm late!" Merlin calls to the room at large as he bursts unceremoniously through the door, arms and legs akimbo. To his joy, there is no answer. Gaius is out - no doubt looking for Merlin and sharpening the instruments he's planning to use to skin him.

Merlin, trying to catch his breath, sets his bag down beside what he's come to think of as _his_ armchair, then saunters across the room and behind Gaius's desk. There's a note.

_ Early meeting with HRH. Back before lunch. Continue with studies of _Malefecent's Grimoire _, as previous. Remember discussion on desired characteristics of incantation in question. Please keep skiving off to a minimum._

Merlin laughs out loud. Gaius may have only known him for a few weeks, but he knows him well.

_P.S. See attached security badge. Congratulations, you've passed. Don't rush straight out to the pub, if you please._

Merlin takes the badge and examines it. It's the same size as his driving license, but thicker and heavier, and attached to a very official looking scarlet lanyard. Excited, Merlin slips it over his head and then lifts the badge to look at it again. It's an absolutely terrible picture.

He pauses for a half a second before deciding that his first task, now that he can leave the grounds, will be to go in search of a decent cup of coffee. He grabs his bag back off the floor and heads out, crumpling Gaius's note into the bin on his way.

He feels a very tiny bit bad for skiving off immediately, but it's too good a chance to miss. Besides, Arthur said The Dawn Treader isn't too far away - it'll be a matter of minutes. He'll stay on tonight and make up the lost time. Gaius, he's sure, would understand.

When he returns, sipping his coffee delightedly (it's _very_ good), Gaius is still absent. Merlin settles himself into his chair with the _Grimoire_ and opens to where he'd left off when Arthur had interrupted two evenings ago. 

It's very interesting reading, but also very complex, and it requires maximum concentration. Each spell or incantation has various ingredients and methods which are extremely detailed and unforgiving. Some are mainly illustrations. Some are in foreign script (Merlin marks these for Gaius to translate because, other than some very scant Latin, Merlin doesn't know any other languages), and some are merely notional. These are the spells Merlin relates to the most, because that's how his powers manifest themselves.

It's late afternoon before Merlin emerges from behind the volume, having scanned every page and finding nothing that resembles what Gaius is searching for.

As Gaius has not yet returned and has left no further instructions for Merlin, Merlin decides to take the opportunity to perform a little experiment.

The first thing he needs is a computer, and for that he, regrettably, needs George.

*

"Morgana, please. Enough is enough." Arthur says through gritted teeth as he stands beside his cousin and smiles for the press.

"I agree with her," Leon mutters from the other side of Morgana. Arthur would like to glare at Leon, but he only smiles more broadly, his eyes narrowing in the flashes.

Lance, standing next to Arthur on his other side, chokes back a laugh. They are at an afternoon tea for one of Morgana's charities. Arthur wouldn't have come except Morgana's schedule is very busy this week and he wants to see her. So here he is, smiling.

A few minutes later, amidst all of the hand shaking, Arthur corners his cousin.

"You've been back in the country for less than a day and already we're back on the same subject. No, 'how are you, Arthur?', no 'it's good to see you, Arthur.' Just straight in with 'you look terrible, Arthur, have you been sleeping?' Very nice."

"Well, you do look terrible. You spent more time in makeup this morning than I did, Arthur, and I'm jetlagged and hungover." Morgana pauses their conversation to make small talk with a few people, but Arthur doesn't leave her side.

"You aren't sleeping and it shows." Morgana continues, snapping a glass of water from a passing waiter and rubbing her temples. "Does Uther know?"

"I've been avoiding him." Arthur mumbles, truthfully.

"Exactly." Morgana says, and turns away as she's sidelined by one of the board members of the charity.

"She's right, you know." Lance says, the two of them watching Morgana ooze charisma all over a wealthy potential donor. 

"Not you, too!" Arthur says, grabbing two flutes of champagne for himself to drink. He's beginning to develop a headache, too, but for a different reason than Morgana.

"Look, Arthur, you're exhausted. I can tell. Has Gaius been making the sleeping draught for you?” Lance asks. Arthur nods, drinking his champagne. “But it’s not working? Maybe you should talk to Gaius, explain that the draught is no longer working?”

“He’ll either tell me to go to Nimueh, whom I do not trust and will not go to, or speak to my Father to get a recommendation of a wizard who may help. Now, we all know how many wizards my father has on his speed dial, but none of them are people I wish to see again.”

Arthur knows that Lance really does want to help. That's the kind of guy Lance is. He'd give away his last bite of food to save someone else, even if it meant he'd die himself. But that doesn't change Arthur's position on the subject.

“The witch can help.” Lance says, again, sounding as though he’s been convinced by Morgana and Morgause.

"Listen, if it were you, no, just listen," Arthur pleads as Lance tries to interrupt him, "Would you let her in? The witch, Nimueh, would you let her into your mind? Without knowing exactly what she was doing in there? I don't trust her enough, Lance. I don't trust anyone enough to let them do a spell on me."

Lance doesn't say anything, letting Arthur's argument sink in. Arthur claps a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine. Honestly. Please, just leave it." Lance looks at him very steadily, then nods. "Thank you." 

Gwaine appears then, as if from nowhere, dragging Leon with him and scaring off a group of elderly women who looked intent on pinching Arthur's cheeks.

"Saturday night, boys!" Gwaine says, circling them into a group and smiling.

"What about it?" Lance asks, rolling his eyes at Arthur and Leon.

"O. U. T. Out!" Gwaine says, throwing an arm around Arthur's shoulder.

"We've got rugby." Arthur says, because Gwaine always forgets. 

"After, then." Gwaine says.

Lance, Leon and Arthur all look at each other and shrug. "Why not." Arthur says. Gwaine jumps and punches the air excitedly.

"We're going to the Club, though." Percy says, emerging out of the crowd as he always does when there's the prospect of alcohol-fueled good times, "I'm not going back to that last place you chose - it was a dump."

"Fine," Gwaine says, "but the first round's on you."

*

Gaius is still off with the King when Arthur stops by his office in the evening. True to his word, however, Merlin has stayed on to make up for lost time, and is crawling under a desk to figure out where to plug in his new equipment when Arthur arrives.

He sees the Prince's feet first, a pair of comfortable trainers. As Merlin backs out from under the desk he takes a moment to straighten himself out.

"Hello." Merlin says, and then, remembering his punishment after he'd seen Arthur last, he quickly tacks a "Sir." on the end of his greeting.

"Good evening." There is an amused tone in Arthur's voice. Merlin brushes dust off the leg of his trousers, feeling like a soap dodger once again. Arthur pauses for a long time, watching Merlin, and then continues, "Merlin, isn't it?" Arthur's eyes scan the office and the new additions Merlin has introduced. He seems amused.

Merlin watches Arthur, his fingers itching for his pencils. Arthur is an artist's dream. He's utterly beautiful, and seems to glow as if lit from within. Merlin wants to reach out a hand and turn Arthur's face into and out of the dim desk lamp light, just to see the effects of changing shadows on his face. He shakes himself slightly, realising Arthur is waiting for a response.

"Aye. Sorry. Can I help?"

"I'm after more of Gaius's draught, if you don't mind." Arthur says and, as if on cue, both of them look at the glass-fronted cabinet. Merlin doesn't pause this time, but goes directly to get the elixir himself. He can feel Arthur's eyes on him as he crosses the room, and he wills himself not to deflate into a puddle of raging adolescent hormones.

"How are you settling in?" Arthur asks, rather awkwardly. Merlin pauses with one hand on the glass doors of the cabinet and turns to look at Arthur. This must be the polite conversation Gwen had predicted.

There is a faint pink flush creeping up the Prince's face. Obviously the fact of Merlin's previous rudeness and subsequent reprimand is fresh in both their minds. Merlin blinks, slowly, wondering exactly how honest to be.

"Well, there's more _washing_ than I thought there'd be, but other than that..." Merlin can't help the smile that follows. Why is it so easy to talk to Arthur? He should be feeling nervous, terrified even, given that the last time he'd been alone with the Prince he'd acted so poorly. But he feels none of that. Talking to Arthur is just as easy and comfortable as talking with Gwen.

"Ah, yes. The _washing_. You did a terrible job. I have a mind to make you wash everything again." And now Arthur is smiling as well, though he still looks rather uncomfortable.

"They were perfectly clean and you know it." Merlin says, adding silently that his Royal Highness would have had a lot less kit in his collection if he'd forced Merlin to wash it all again. Merlin wonders whether he'd have been able to pass any damages off as an accident.

"True." Is all Arthur says. And then, gesturing at the computer equipment, "I take it Gaius has been with my father all day?"

Merlin nods.

"He won't be pleased with these additions, he's not entirely fond of technology." Arthur smiles.

"Aye, I ken."

"Has George found a suitable position for you, then? Now that you've passed security."

"How did you know...?" 

Arthur shrugs, "You work for me." Then Arthur points to Merlin's badge. "Plus..."

Merlin feels stupid, of course Arthur would have noticed his new badge. 

Merlin walks up to Arthur and hands over the tiny bottle of elixir. He also holds out his ID badge for Arthur to see. Arthur takes the draught in one hand and holds Merlin's badge up with the other, scrutinizing it. Merlin has to lean in a little, the lanyard digging into the back of his neck. He's close enough to smell Arthur's aftershave and to see his pulse beating beneath the skin of his neck.

"Personal Assistant to the Royal Physician. That's a good position for someone just joining the staff." Arthur nods as if he knows anything at all about job titles. "Do you have any medical training?"

"None at all." Merlin says with a defiant smirk, being sure to hold Arthur's eyes. Arthur still hasn't released his badge.

"That was an interesting choice, then. Gaius must think you're quite capable."

"Oh, I am. Not that Gaius would know." The words have escaped Merlin's lips before he can stop them and he feels a blush tinge his own face now as he realises he's actually flirting with the Crown Prince.

Again.

Arthur stares at Merlin for a long, long moment. Merlin studies the way his eyebrows are knitted together in confusion, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes slowly, the depth in his achingly blue eyes. Then Arthur clears his throat, lets go of the badge and Merlin shakes his head and takes a half-step backwards.

"It's a terrible picture." Arthur says.

"Aye." Merlin smiles, retreating to his own side of the desk and bending over a large book, pretending to read. His heart is racing and he feels slightly faint. He wishes Arthur would just leave already so that he, Merlin, can collapse into a chair and perhaps bang his head against the desk again.

Neither of them speak for a very long time, but Merlin doesn't dare look up. His cheeks are still flaming.

"Thank you for this, Merlin." Arthur says, finally, and by the time Merlin looks up, all he can see is the door to Gaius's office closing.

*

When Merlin opens his first pay cheque he nearly chokes to death, spitting his juice all over Gwen in the process. Gwen, startled, slaps Merlin on the back with her open palm until Merlin has regained his composure.

"What the hell was that for, Merlin?" Gwen asks, wiping Merlin's Irn Bru off the front of her jacket with good grace. Merlin is sure his eyes are as wide as saucers. He's never, ever seen a cheque for this much money. He wonders whether he should approach Gaius and explain that something must have gone wrong somewhere. He wonders whether anyone will notice their mistake. He wonders how fast he can cash the cheque before anyone realises they've gotten something terribly wrong.

Merlin can only hold out the slip of paper towards Gwen mutely. She takes it but does not have the same reaction as Merlin.

"What is it, Merlin?"

"That's a lot of money, Gwen." He croaks, deciding it's safe enough to take another drink of his juice and suddenly deciding that Irn Bru is not nearly strong enough. He would use his magic to change the juice into something more alcoholic, but Gaius's warnings are too fresh in his memory.

"It's just your wage. You get paid the same as the rest of us."

"Holy hell." Is all Merlin can say, as he chokes on his juice again. 

"Come on, Merlin, it's not that much. It's not even a full month's wage."

"Gwen, this is a LOT of money. Do you think they made a mistake somewhere?"

"Merlin, I'm telling you, it's the same as we all get. Look here, that's your hourly rate. Same as mine. Jesus, you'd think you'd never seen a pay cheque before." Gwen hands the cheque back, but Merlin keeps looking at it as though it's a winning lottery ticket. 

"Not like this one, I haven't." Merlin gasps. Gwen laughs and Merlin can't help but join her, and before too long they are collapsed against the wall of the corridor, gasping for breath. They straighten up immediately when George rounds the corner and passes by them, his expression disapproving. 

"Well then, what are you going to do with all your money?" She asks him, finally regaining her composure.

"Um. I suppose I should open a bank account. Then, well, do you fancy joining me for dinner? My treat!"

Four hours later Merlin is laughing with Gwen at their table at the Hard Rock Café. Merlin had successfully opened an account with the Royal Bank of Scotland on Curzon Street and had then gone straight out to spend some of his money. His first stop had been a rather sumptuous art supply store where he'd had to forcibly restrain himself before he spent all of his money. As it was, he'd managed to buy a new sketchbook and a glorious set of pencils. 

"They offered you a credit card and everything?" Gwen asks, abashed. She lowers her voice to the barest whisper and leans across the table, "But you're not even eighteen!"

"Honestly, hen, I think they'd have granted me access to their vaults and all." Merlin laughs, taking yet another sip of his ridiculously large, ridiculously girly, drink. Gwen is on her second cocktail as well, and they are quite enjoying themselves. Gwen had been rather surprised to hear Merlin ordering alcohol, considering he was not yet of drinking age. She had been sure, all the way through their first drink, that they were about to get chucked out. Merlin decided not to tell her that he had magically interfered to ensure he would get served.

"Wow. It's not like they give just anyone credit cards these days." She says sarcastically, "I've got four." She smiles evilly at Merlin, playing idly with the multiple straws sticking out of her fishbowl sized glass.

"Four? Jesus. My Mum didn't even have _one_."

"It looks like you're busy using yours already, if I'm honest." Gwen giggles, motioning to Merlin's new clothes and his new haircut. "You do realise that sort of hair is against the dress code, right?"

Merlin waves his hand at her, surprised at how tipsy he's feeling. There must be more alcohol than he thinks in these stupid cocktails.

"If they give me the sack I can go home and live quite happily for about a year on what they've already paid me!"

Gwen giggles attractively, drawing the attention of the group of men at the neighbouring table, whom she ignores. Merlin eyes them warily.

The rest of their evening passes with much laughter and only a few more drinks. As they are leaving, Gwen clings on to Merlin's arm helplessly, resting her head on his shoulder.

"That food was awful!" Merlin says, guiding them both along the pavement through bunch of tourists brandishing cameras. "Why did we go there?"

"'twas your choice." Gwen mumbles. Merlin steers them across a side street, dodging out of the way of a black cab.

"Well I've always wanted to go to one!" He admits, then considers the stone-cold chips which had been served to him. "But let's not do that again."

"Cocktails were nice." Gwen allows. Merlin laughs, pulling her closer to him to avoid another, larger group of people. 

"Merlin?" A man's voice calls out, sounding surprised. Merlin turns around, bringing Gwen along with him rather reluctantly.

Merlin's stomach does a forward tumble. 

Prince Arthur is there, looking absolutely stunning in a tailored black suit and a bowtie. Who wears a bowtie? Apparently Arthur does and it suits him very, very well. He is surrounded by a group of similarly dressed gentlemen, all of whom look to be about the same age and all of whom are very good looking. Arthur is staring at Merlin with his eyes wide and his mouth open in a surprised looking O.

"Arthur." Merlin chokes out, his voice raised in surprise. He makes a supreme effort to stand taller, suddenly feeling quite a bit more sober than thirty seconds ago. Gwen, looking up, stands to attention so fast that Merlin is surprised she doesn't faint dead away. At least she doesn't curtsy this time, Merlin muses, although he doubts she could pull it off at this particular moment. 

The (extremely attractive) man standing to the left of Arthur is eyeing up Gwen with the same expression the men in the restaurant were wearing and Merlin feels very protective of her. He grips her arm tighter. Arthur is still just staring at them. More specifically, Arthur is staring at where Merlin’s hand is on Gwen’s, on his forearm.

Merlin decides that no one else is going to speak, so he attempts to say something.

"This is Guinevere. Gwen. Smith." Merlin stammers. Gwen's grip on Merlin's arm is tight enough to bruise, but he ignores her.

"Pleased to see you again." Arthur nods at her. His companion is still looking at Gwen as though she's something delicious displayed on a sumptuous buffet. Merlin glares at him briefly then looks back at Arthur.

"Oh, yes. These are my friends," Arthur says, waving his hands at each one in turn, "Lancelot, Leon, Percival, and Gwaine." 

The one introduced as Lancelot takes a step away from the group and offers up his hand for Merlin to shake. "Please, call me Lance." He says, smiling a megawatt smile that makes Merlin's mouth water. He really is extremely good looking. Not to mention just about the straightest guy he's ever seen. Gwen shakes Lance's hand and nods demurely and Lance goes back to looking at her as though he'd like to take their introduction quite a bit further.

Merlin has his hand shaken by the rest of Arthur's friends. Gwaine is last, and Merlin is sure that the smile Gwaine bestows upon him is rather more lascivious than it perhaps should be, given the situation. Gwaine continues to grip Merlin's hand, using his other hand to tuck a long strand of dark, curly hair behind his ear, a gesture that is not lost on Merlin who has used that trick himself in the past. Arthur, it appears, is familiar with the gesture as well, and he clears his throat sharply, causing Gwaine to let go of Merlin’s hand and step back into place beside Arthur. 

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asks Merlin, a look of shock still nestled on his face.

"Dinner." Merlin smiles, nodding vaguely in the direction of the restaurant. "Cocktails." He giggles, unable to stop himself, catching Gwen's eye.

"Cocktails?" Arthur asks, and Merlin is certain, in that moment, that Arthur knows exactly what age Merlin is and knows that he's spent the evening basically breaking the law. He wonders if he'd been speaking to Gaius about him behind his back. The prospect excites Merlin and also fills him with a tiny bit of indignant rage.

"Cocktails." Merlin says, letting his accent draw out the word to its fullest extent. Not entirely to his surprise, Gwaine exhales suddenly, making a very turned-on sounding "oh!".

Arthur is still staring at Merlin, one eyebrow raised.

"We're just headed out for a few drinks ourselves. Would you care to join us?" Lance is obviously speaking only to Gwen and Arthur is looking at Lance as though he's never met him before. 

"We can't go with _them_." Percival chimes in, rather rudely, eyeing Merlin as though he were a bit of scum stuck to the bottom of his well-polished shoes. For some reason Merlin's temper rises immediately.

"Like I’d want to go out with _you_ , mate." Merlin says with a derisive laugh, instantly bristling. Percival makes a move for Merlin as though he's going to hit him but Leon steps between them, shouting. Merlin steps forward, wanting to show Percival that he's not frightened of him.

"Merlin, can I speak to you, please, in private?" Arthur asks urgently, and his voice is clearly audible above the continued shouting of his friends as they attempt to calm Percival down. Merlin detaches himself from Gwen and he and Arthur step to the side of the group.

"You can't speak to Percy like that, Merlin. He's fifth in line for the throne." Arthur sounds as though he's tired of having to explain these sorts of things to Merlin.

"He's a dick." Merlin exclaims, just loud enough that he's sure Percy can hear him.

Arthur seems to consider this for a few moments. "All the same. You can't speak to him like that."

"Are you saying that as Just Arthur, as my boss, or as the Crown Prince?" Merlin asks, a little more heat in his voice than he'd have liked. 

Arthur's eyebrows knit together again, as though he is surprised to think that these titles could imply different things.

For Merlin, they're very distinctly different.

After a long time with no response, Merlin gives up and walks back to Gwen's side, gripping her hand tightly. He plasters a smile on his face, although he knows it's not convincing. In his most polite tone he addresses Lance, "Thank you very much for your invitation, however, I'm afraid Gwen and I will need to decline. We both have work in the morning." He says these last words while looking Arthur directly in the eyes.

Merlin turns Gwen back in the direction they had originally been heading and the two of them head towards the entrance to Green Park and back to the dormitories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hen - slang word for female, a term of endearment, usually.  
> *ken - know  
> *to get the sack - to get fired


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7: In which Arthur has a rough morning, Gaius gets rather more than he bargained for, and Merlin shows Gwen something unexpected.
> 
> Chapter specific tags: vague reference to alcohol consumption, minor animal endangerment (but it's all OK, I promise!)

#  **Chapter 7**

Arthur’s phone alarm blares and he curses rather louder than necessary as he gropes in the darkness to silence it. He draws the attention of his Royal Protection Command who poke their head round the door to ensure that his cursing is innocent and not the result of a deadly struggle for his life. 

Arthur dismisses them, a little embarassed, but a few seconds later Arthur kind of wishes he  _ were _ being murdered - it might be less painful than the agony of his hangover which crashes over him like a wave. Memories of the previous evening creep up on him and he falls back against his pillows, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose. 

He'd been out for a nice, civilised evening with the boys. They had been standing outside the Club deciding where to go next when Merlin had appeared. Merlin. With a new haircut and, it looked like, new clothes. Merlin. With that insouciant, ambling walk that makes Arthur's toes curl. Merlin. With that Gwen woman draped over him like a blanket.

After that there had been much drinking.

Arthur slams both his hands down on his bed and they sink rather anti-climatically into his thick duvet. It is not like Arthur to lust after, well, anyone, really. The few experiences he's had didn't leave much time for lustful desires as they went from attraction to fulfilment to boredom in a matter of days. This, though, this is different. He's never wanted anything more than he wants Merlin, and he's rather used getting what he wants. 

There is, of course, the small fact that Merlin is quite obviously involved with this Gwen woman. Whatever Arthur is, he is not someone who steels another person's partner away from them. Also, Morgana would murder him if his actions caused Gwen any heartache.

That is, assuming that Merlin would want to be stolen. Was Arthur fooling himself to think that there was a heat between the two of them? He hoped not, but at the same time, thinking that Merlin was 100% totally off limits made it easier, somehow. And as long as he could keep believing that, he'd be OK.

Right?

Arthur grabs fistfuls of his duvet in frustration. It looks as though, for the time being, Arthur will have to settle for his (very) vivid fantasies. Then, after not too long, this lust will dissipate and he will be back to normal. It's not as though he sees the boy that often anyway.

Arthur stands and stretches, checking his watch. It's just after  5:30am.

What he needs is a long run followed by strong coffee and a bracingly cold shower, during which he may or may not have a marathon wank while picturing himself tugging hard on Merlin's hair while Merlin screams his name in blissful release.

A run and a cold shower. Yes. 

An hour and a half later Arthur comes to a halt outside The Dawn Treader, legs shaking from exertion and comfortably out of breath. He waits for his security detail to catch him up and then chaps the front door sharply. To his surprise, the door is ajar and swings open easily at his touch. That has certainly never happened before at this time of the morning. Arthur pushes the door open, walking cautiously into the small shop, then pulls up in surprise. 

Merlin (of all people, MERLIN!) is standing at the counter with a stack of coffee cups towering towards the ceiling, sorting through loose change and a handful of notes. 

"What the fuck, Emrys." Arthur says, unkindly. "This place is supposed to be secret." He walks up to Merlin and gestures widely, encompassing the whole shop. 

"Emrys?" Merlin asks, and Arthur thinks he can hear anger in his tone, but he ignores it. How could he be here? Why? It's the only good coffee within reasonable walking distance and it had been Arthur's secret! Why had he ever even told Merlin about it? Arthur curses himself.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur's voice is a growl.

"How do you know my surname?"

"Merlin, you work for me, you massive prat. Now, what are you doing here?"

Merlin turns back to the counter, handing his money to the owner. 

"Coffee." Merlin says with awful sarcasm. Merlin looks annoyed and slightly dishevelled, he has obviously only woken up recently. His face is sleepy and his hair even less tidy than normal. The overall effect is extremely sexy. Arthur fights back against his desire.

"Why here? Of all places, why come here?" Arthur can't believe how disappointed he feels at Merlin's betrayal. Merlin had said he wouldn't tell anyone… "And it looks like you're buying coffee for the whole damn city. Everyone will know about this place now."

"No they won't." Merlin mumbles, shoving his change into his jeans pocket and lifting the cardboard cup holders carefully. Arthur hates the fact that the first thing he notices is the cup with Gwen's name scribbled on it. 

"What was that?" Arthur asks, blocking Merlin's egress.

"I said no they won't!" Merlin practically shouts, his exquisite cheekbones reddening with anger, "Look!" He brandishes the stack of cups in Arthur's face, "there's no logo on them. No one knows where they come from. I haven't told anyone. And if they served decent coffee in the canteen I wouldn't have to come here at all. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go. I wouldn't want to be late for work, now would I, your Highness."

There is so much bitterness squeezed into the final words of Merlin's sentence that Arthur deflates, his anger and disappointment evaporating completely.

Now that he looks more closely, the cups are indeed unmarked with logos. They are usually plastered with the name of the shop. Arthur looks to the owner, questioningly.

"He said he could guarantee a dozen sales each morning if I consented to serve them in unmarked cups." The owner says, with a shrug, and then turns to the steaming machine where he begins to make Arthur's usual beverage.

"What?" Arthur asks, dumbly.

Merlin looks up at Arthur. His eyes are so blue Arthur can't stand it. He feels again the now familiar sensation of something becoming untied within him.

"I need my coffee, Arthur. You told me about this place and their coffee is so good, I couldn't help myself. Then Gwen wanted to know where I went every morning, but I wouldn't tell her. She wouldn't let it rest and the word got out that I knew about some magical font of delicious espresso. So I offered to buy coffees for everyone, just to shut them up. But I knew that if I told them where I go then they would all come here and you wouldn't be able to anymore." Merlin says all of this very quickly still looking into Arthur's eyes. "I _need_ my coffee, Arthur."

"Oh." Is all Arthur can say. To think that Merlin has considered all of this just to protect Arthur. The thought pleases him more than it should.

"Now, if you will please excuse me. I really do have to go or I'll be late and Gaius will murder me."

Arthur says nothing, just steps aside to let Merlin pass. Merlin nods to Arthur's security on the pavement, even says hello to a few of them like he knows them, and then walks quickly towards the gate into the grounds. Arthur stands, staring, for a few more moments until the owner interrupts him, brandishing a hot coffee, and Arthur is diverted.

As he walks back towards the Palace himself he has to capitulate that Merlin has something right: their coffee is very good indeed.

*

Merlin is late for work after all. He bursts unceremoniously into Gaius's office and collapses into an armchair, gasping for breath, having sprinted nearly the whole way from the dormitories.

"What in the name of God have you done to yourself, boy? You look like a hooligan." Gaius is looking disapprovingly at Merlin. It seems to be his favourite facial expression as far as Merlin is concerned.

"Yesterday was payday." Merlin says by way of an explanation.

"Well, you look ridiculous. And don't get too comfortable." 

"Why not?" Merlin asks.

"I've decided that, since you can't be trusted to complete the simplest task without complicating things with these...these..."

"Computers." Merlin supplies, helpfully. Gaius scowls.

"We're going out. I need to test your abilities, my boy, and we certainly cannot do that here in the Palace, not judging by what I've seen so far. So we're going out. We can get some fresh air and you can explain why George is trying to get me to sign up for an e-mail account."

"Where to?" Merlin asks, picking his bag back off the floor and following Gaius out the door.

"A nature reserve near Heathrow. Don't worry, my boy, I'm sure it shall be quite deserted."

As Gaius weaves through the early morning rush hour, Merlin watches the city go by. There are so many people, Merlin gets dizzy just trying to see them all. There's more people within Greater London than in the whole of Scotland, and Merlin can sense each one of them, a million unique flames making up a sea of fire. The city itself begs to be explored. Each alley, each doorway, each towering building. It's beautiful, and Merlin could look at it forever.

"Your father used to live near here." Gaius says, not looking away from the road. Merlin, tearing his eyes off the passing traffic, feels his pulse quicken.

"Did you know him well?" Merlin asks. "He died when I was little."

"I thought I did." Gaius says, swerving to avoid a bin man. Merlin looks over at the older man, but decides not to press the matter. If Gaius wants to share, he will.

A few minutes later, as the city thins out, Gaius continues. "I knew him many years ago. He was a wizard, of course, but you've guessed that, I'm sure, having read the books he left you. I was his teacher, and he was my student."

Gaius pauses, leaning over the steering wheel watching for a light to change. Merlin doesn't say a word. His mother had rarely spoken of his father except to say that he was a wonderful man and that she loved him immensely.

"We were close to family in the end. When he married your mother I was one of the few invited to attend the ceremony. When he escaped to the north we spoke infrequently and after he died I lost touch completely."

"Escaped?" Merlin asks, but Gaius seems not to hear him.

"Hunith contacted me when she fell ill, asked me if I would honour the friendship I'd once held with your father. I said yes immediately, of course. And here we are."

Gaius parks the car and exits quickly, putting an end to their conversation. Merlin still wants to know what he meant by "escaped", but decides now is not the time.

They walk a short way away from the car and stop in a thick wood alongside a still body of water.

The place seems just as deserted as Gaius promised it would be. Just to be on the safe side, Merlin lets his senses expand and decides that, yes, they are entirely alone.

"There." Gaius says, sharply. "What did you just do there?" There is a manic excitement in Gaius's voice. He would have noticed Merlin’s eyes, of course, glowing gold as they always did when he performed magic. How often he'd stood in front of a mirror as a child, levitating objects just to see his eyes change.

"Um." Merlin stammers.

"Tell me."

"I was just checking to make sure we're actually alone." Merlin says, suddenly feeling like a child who has done something terribly wrong.

"How?"

"I don't really know how. I just sort of stretch out and I can feel people. Life forces, maybe? I don't know. I've been able to do it since I was a baby. Mum said I never cried when she left me alone as a child because I always knew just where she was."

Gaius absorbs that information and says nothing. Then, after a long pause, "Are we alone, then?"

"Yes. Well, there's a family of foxes, I think, about a hundred feet away, but I doubt they'll inform on me."

"Okay, then. Let's begin. I want you to show me everything you know." 

"Everything?" Merlin asks, certain that Gaius doesn't have a clue what he's just asked Merlin to do. Gaius nods.

This should be interesting. 

Merlin lets himself relax, retracting the carefully built shields he hides his powers behind. It feels like stepping out of uncomfortably wet clothing. Closing his eyes he stretches his magical powers, which he considers to be both a sixth sense and also an entity much like a muscle. Merlin begins by simply pulling up, and he can feel the grass and the flowers at his feet growing taller by inches. The saplings at the edge of the water grow as well, ageing years in seconds. When Merlin realises that he is now knee-deep in lush grasses he relaxes again and then imagines the wind blowing strongly as though in a storm. The wind obeys his command, rising to near gale-force before Merlin relaxes again. After causing darkness to fall in the middle of the morning and causing a nearby Elm tree to shed its leaves and then sprout new ones, Merlin raises some water out of the small lake they're standing beside and sets it on fire, just for the fun of it. 

In a startling example of wrong place, wrong time, a swallow darts into the flaming ball of water. Merlin's powers snap back to him like a rubber band as the bird falters in its flight and falls, dead, to the ground. Without pausing to think, Merlin rushes over, lifts the tiny body and pulls energy from the surrounding fauna then pushes the energy into the lifeless body of the bird. The bird flips over then flaps its wings experimentally before taking off into the sky and flying safely away.

"Good God." Gaius croaks. His voice is soft, far away, quite unlike his normal voice.

Merlin thinks perhaps less than five minutes has passed since they began his test. Merlin just looks at Gaius.

"What?"

"The bird was dead." There is still something wrong with Gaius's voice. As Merlin watches him, he feels around for something solid and lowers himself onto a large stone. He looks very pale.

"Aye."

"You brought that bird back to life."

"Aye."

"And is this something you make a habit of doing? Bringing deceased creatures back to life?"

Merlin pauses, wondering how to answer. He decides that this moment might not be one for complete truthfulness. 

"Not usually, no."

"Explain." Gaius says.

"Well, it wasn't long dead, and birds aren't the most complex of creatures, you ken? So, it was easy, really."

"Easy. To bring a creature back from the dead. Easy." Gaius is now clutching his chest, breathing heavily. 

"Aye, well it doesn't work on anything long dead nor on humans so far as I can tell." Merlin lets the sentence end there and he knows, he just knows that he doesn't need to explain to Gaius that he'd tried this very same trick on his mother when he had discovered her, deceased, in her bed. He had pulled the energy from everything he could pull from, and when Will arrived to see why Merlin hadn't shown up at work, he had found Merlin unconscious beside his mother's bed, and every living thing for fifty metres stone dead.

"And you're not even tired." Gaius says finally, glossing over the awkward silence.

"Naw. Like I said. Easy." Merlin rolls his shoulders, shrugging off the memories of his mother which are threatening to overwhelm him.

"And you didn't speak any spells."

“Don't know any."

"Good God." Gaius repeats, looking as though Merlin has just re-written the laws of the Universe. Which, Merlin concedes, is basically what he's done. "Well, Merlin. This complicates things. This is well beyond my skills, I'm afraid. I don't think even Nimueh... But we'll have to ask her, of course. You might even be the… No, that's not possible, I'd know." Gaius is now standing and walking in a small circle, his hands wringing. He still looks very pale and Merlin worries  he could fall over at any moment. "We might as well return to the Palace. I thought I was taking you out here so you could levitate a few twigs without being seen. I had no idea. No idea at all. Of course, I've heard rumours of magic like this but never dreamed that I'd see… not even your father... nothing like this..." 

Gaius continues talking in this distracted manner throughout their walk back to the car and their whole drive back to the Palace.

"Merlin," Gaius says, very seriously, once they are back in his office, "Until I can see what we're dealing with here, I want you to be even more careful not to reveal your powers. Understand me?"

"Sure." Merlin agrees, he hadn't really been planning on showing anyone, anyway.

"You might as well take the rest of the afternoon off. I've got a lot of thinking to do."

"Aye?" Merlin says, pleased.

"Yes, go. Go!" Gaius waves him out of the room.

Merlin stands for a few seconds in the corridor, thinking perhaps of finding Gwen and heading out into the city with her, but he decides against it. She's probably busy, anyway.

He sends a text to Will just to check in on him, see how he's coping in Ealdor without him, as he hasn't heard from him for a few days. 

Merlin then looks at the sky through one of the towering windows. Clear blue, not a cloud in sight. A perfect late autumn day. Without knowing really where he's going or what he's going to do, Merlin heads out into the city.

*

"Arthur!" Lance cries out from somewhere down the pitch, causing Arthur to look up at him just in time to dodge out of the way of the football flying towards his face at warp speed.

Gwaine runs over to lend his teammate a hand up while, predictably, Percy scores a goal.

"You're sacked from keeping, mate, royalty or not." Gwaine's voice isn't entirely joking. Football is one of the things Gwaine actually cares about. Arthur apologises again, promising to do better.

The match is not going well, and it's mostly Arthur's fault. Although, his big cousin is doing her best to capitalise on Arthur's distracted state, and she's scored a hat trick for her side. Percy is gloating, as expected, but Leon at least looks worried.

"Arthur, mate, what's going on here?" Leon asks, coming to collect the ball as the halftime bell has sounded. Arthur shrugs his shoulders. If he told Leon that he was distracted because he had a crush on someone, he would never live it down.

"You're playing's shit tonight, little cousin of mine." Morgana smiles, twisting her ponytail higher on her head and adjusting her headband. However unfair it might be, Morgana has been playing her heart out and she still wouldn't look out of place on a catwalk. Arthur scowls at her and sticks his tongue out childishly.

"I've got a lot on my mind, ok?" Arthur says taking a long drink of water. 

"Not another exam, surely." 

"Not this time, no." Arthur says, then escapes to the loo before he can be asked any more questions. On the way out of the lockers he reads a text from his father which makes him enter the second half of the match with renewed vigour. Apparently his father has arranged for him to depart the following morning for a week long diplomatic tour of Europe. Without asking. Again. 

It hacks him off that his father hasn't even bothered to ask Arthur if he has plans or obligations of his own before signing him up to whatever diplomatic nonsense he has ahead of him this coming week. Therefore he plays the second half much more aggressively and scores four times. It feels good to beat out his frustration at his father against the grass and the ball. Percy is near tears by the end of the match, having convinced himself that they were finally going to win a game.

That evening Arthur spends a very apologetic half hour rescheduling events and meetings after which he goes to bed feeling rather wrung out He just hopes that, when he becomes king, he's a fraction less self-serving.

*

"Where have you been?" Gwen asks, entering Merlin's room without knocking.

Merlin freezes, panic setting in. He is halfway through hanging the London A-Z map on his wall with magic. The map is floating halfway from the ground to the wall. He looks at Gwen whose eyes are wide and startled.

"Shit" Merlin says, letting the map fall down to the ground again.

"How? What?" Gwen stumbles into Merlin's room, the door shutting automatically behind her. "How?"

"Christ." Merlin says, reaching out towards Gwen who looks as though she might pass out.

"It was... you were..." Another long pause as Gwen gestures at the map and at the wall over and over again. "How?"

"I'm a wizard." Merlin says, although he's pretty sure Gwen has already guessed that. She sits on the edge of his bed looking shell-shocked. A billion emotions are fighting for Merlin's attention. Somehow, Gwen's reaction is more important to him than Gaius's.

"I gathered as much." Gwen gestures at the wall again, then takes a deep breath.

Merlin, deciding that Gwen is no longer in danger of fainting, and deciding that he might as well get hung for a pound as for a penny, waves the map up onto the wall and hangs it, perfectly straight, with magic.

He looks back to Gwen who is now starting to laugh a slightly manic laugh. "You're a wizard."

"Aye."

"Like Gandalf?"

Merlin laughs himself. "Aye, like Gandalf."

Gwen falls back onto Merlin's bed, laughing helplessly. 

"An actual wizard." She breathes out between laughs, pushing herself up on her elbows. "Normal people would have used blu-tack, Merlin."

"I tried that!" Merlin points to the mostly used up packet on the floor which is the remains of his failed attempt to hang the (to his credit, very large) map on the wall using traditional methods.

Gwen shakes her head at him, then leaps up and claps her hands together excitedly. "Oh my god, do you have a wand?"

"Aye, lass, but that's for an entirely different type of magic." Merlin replies, without skipping a beat.

To his complete glee, Gwen blushes and collapses back into a heap of giggles on Merlin's bed.

Merlin feels relief crash over him. She's not frightened. Maybe Gaius's dire warnings were overreactions?

When she regains her composure she looks at him, her eyes wide.

"I've heard that there are actual witches and wizards in the world, but I've never hoped to meet one. What can you do?"

Merlin goes to the bed and sits himself down next to her, feeling like laughing for years. He hadn't really ever considered telling Gwen this secret, but he feels much better now that he has. It's like setting down a bag he'd been carrying his whole life and hadn't realised was heavy.

"Basically anything." Merlin admits.

"Like teleportation?" Gwen says, her eyes wide.

"Well, I've never tried it, but I imagine it wouldn't be _that_ difficult."

"Can you show me?"

Merlin gestures towards the wall and the expertly hung map.

"No, something else! Something _cool_."

Merlin thinks for a few moments, trying to decide what he can show her here, in his room. He relaxes and lets his other senses take over. Behind them the door lock clicks, drawing Gwen's gaze. Merlin takes the half-empty water glass from his bedside table and pours the water out into the air where it hovers between them. He makes it dance before them in a curving line of glinting liquid. The result is surprisingly beautiful. Gwen smiles at him, her eyes full of wonder. Then Merlin blinks and the water turns to flames in an instant. Then he relaxes again, the water and flame vanishing.

"That's just the flashy stuff. Not very useful." Merlin shrugs.

"It's incredible." Gwen breathes. 

"I can do better! I just need time to think, that's all!"

Merlin feels, stupidly, like he's wasted his chance to really impress Gwen by doing idiotic, useless magic.  Gwen, however, does seem suitably impressed. She's still staring at him with her eyes wide.

"An actual _wizard_! How cool is that? Thank you for telling me, Merlin."

"You can't tell anyone, Gwen. Please. They still burn people like me at the stake, remember."

"Do they?"

"Well, not in the U.K., apparently, but yeah, elsewhere they do."

"By that's awful!" Gwen's face is very serious. "I would never, ever, tell anyone, Merlin, you know that." Gwen takes both of Merlin's hands into her own and squeezes them reassuringly. "Who else does know?"

"My friend Will back in Ealdor and Gaius."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"And now me."

"Now you, aye." There is a look of such tenderness on Gwen's face that Merlin feels himself beginning to get emotional.

"Thank you, Merlin, for sharing this with me." Gwen's voice is so sincere Merlin is afraid the tears that are threatening will soon start to fall.

"Well, I really didn't want to faff about with that map any longer." Merlin says, breaking the tension. Gwen starts to giggle again and everything is back to normal.

Merlin wonders whether everyone would react to his magic in this way, then reminds himself that Gwen is very special. After all, as he had said, there are still parts of the world where he would have been drowned as a child, or burned at the stake. Gwen gets off his bed and walks to where the map hangs on the wall. 

"What's it for, anyway?" She asks.

"Well, maps are used so people can find their way around unfamiliar cities." Merlin says, as though reading from a textbook.

"I know that, Merlin. Why have you hung it on your wall?" 

"I don't know. I like it. It's London."

"Exactly. It's _London_."

"Once again I remind you that I grew up in a village with a population of about 80 people.”

"Ah. I suppose that makes sense, then." Gwen turns back to Merlin, still smiling. 

"Dinner?" Merlin asks her, even though he is not really that hungry.

"No. I've..." Gwen pauses, looking at Merlin with serious eyes. "I've got a date, actually." She admits.

"George?"

Gwen hits Merlin sharply on his arm, laughing.

"No, you ass. Not George. But... I can't tell you who it is."

"Ohhh, a secret!" Merlin teases. "Come on, I just told you a secret! A big one, too!"

"I know you did, and I really appreciate your trust, but I...can't tell you, Merlin. I'm sorry."

"Do we like this guy?" Merlin asks, still teasing.

"Yes, we do." Gwen says, looking down at the ground. Merlin can feel excitement for her bursting the seams of his heart. She's obviously smitten.

"Well, then, I'll not tease you too much. Have fun, hen, and text if you need a rescue." Merlin says, as Gwen leaves his room.

"You know I will." Gwen pauses at the door, then comes back and gives him a very strong hug. "I really do appreciate you sharing this with me."

Merlin doesn't speak because he can't think of anything important enough. He just hugs Gwen back as hard as he can, swallowing his emotion as she leaves.

After the door shuts Merlin looks around his empty room.

"Alone." Merlin says. The word almost echoes.

He tries to phone Will again, but there's no answer. He goes to his bag, gets out his new black marker pen, walks over to the map on the wall and gets to work.

*

"Gwen knows." Merlin says first thing the next morning. Gaius is looking at the bottom of an open laptop computer as though looking for the mice on spinning wheels that must be providing the power.

"What is an uhssbah port? Is this...where?" Gaius is now trying to force a USB memory stick into the 3mm jack. Merlin, taking pity on him, goes over to help, setting his coffee down first.

"Here, let me. It goes here, see? And you have to make sure this symbol, here, is facing up, otherwise it won't fit."

"...don't know why we need these monstrosities anyway..." Gaius mumbles, leaning in to squint at the screen. Merlin fights back laughter, his heart constricting painfully. His mother had been useless at technology, too. She was still using a Nokia 3210. Or, rather, she had been, before...

"Did you hear me?" Merlin asks, making sure he has Gaius's full attention. He imagines Gaius is going to overreact, and there's nothing like a blazing row to get Merlin's thoughts off his mother. "I said Gwen knows."

Gaius looks at Merlin for a few long seconds before simply turning back to the computer screen and squinting again.

"I figured as much. Anyone else?"

"No." Merlin answers, hesitantly. Why isn't Gaius yelling at him?

"Good. Now, show me again how I save files." Gaius says, shaking the optic mouse like a Christmas present and sending red laser flashes skittering across his desk.

"I thought you would be mad." Merlin admits.

Gaius puts down the mouse, rolls his chair away from the desk and crosses his arms across his chest.

"I was born years before they legalised magic in this country, which means my parents had already sent me away, out of fear. I was raised in a children's home and beaten any time my powers showed, even though it was legal by then, out of fear. I have managed to excel in my chosen career without using my powers, even though they would have been, many times, useful. Out of fear. That fear is my burden, and I have no wish to pass that on to you.

"Your powers are greater than mine. Greater than any I have seen or heard about, but they are _your_ powers, and I can't stop you from using them." Gaius takes a deep breath, looking Merlin directly in his eyes.

"All I can say is that discretion should be considered at all times. Laws are easier to change than minds. It may be legal for you to do magic in public, but there are pockets of hate out there, hate fueled by fear and jealousy, and I, for one, cannot predict how they will react to witnessing your power.

"Guinevere Smith does not seem to pose a threat, thankfully. But I want to stress that you have fortunately led a sheltered and understanding life, which I believe was your father's reason for relocating to such a remote location.

"Your parents sacrificed everything they knew to protect you from harm, Merlin, and it doesn't seem very grateful of you to disregard those sacrifices now. It's only my opinion, I know, but there it is."

Merlin and Gaius stand in silence for a good, long while, as Merlin digests what Gaius has said. He hadn't ever thought of it like that before. 

"I guess I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry. I can try to be more careful in future."

Gaius regards him, still with that serious look on his face, clearly trying to decide if Merlin can be trusted.

"Good. Now, show me again how The Internet works."

Merlin laughs, grabbing his coffee, sitting down next to Gaius and explaining (for the fifth time) how to open a web browser.

They may not have had a row, but the conversation with Gaius has given Merlin enough to think about that almost two days pass before he gets swept up in another tide of crushing despair.

Which is certainly saying something.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 - In which Arthur's inattentiveness leads to a very close call and Merlin gets to meet the King.
> 
> Chapter specific tags: Minor Physical Injury

#  **Chapter 8**

Upon his return to London, Arthur decides that what he needs most is a long, long run through his city. After his whirlwind tour of European dignitaries' handshakes, he's in dire need of a good, hard session - just get out on the streets and sweat away the previous week's stresses. Tonight he'll ring the boys round for an entirely different type of session, or maybe see if Morgana fancies catching a film (providing, of course, she isn't otherwise occupied). His father would hang him for going out into the city in the busy evening, but Arthur really can't be arsed with what his father would think. Not now, not after the week he’s had. So, before he even goes to see Morgana or texts to let his father know he's home, he changes into his running gear (warmer due to the changing season) and buzzes down to security.

When he arrives at the South Gate there are only three security guards. 

"Only three?" Arthur asks the man standing at the front of the group.

"Wrong time of day." Is all he says.

Arthur's father is definitely going to hang him for this. Although maybe Arthur will feel more like a normal runner without an entire pack of black-clad guardians struggling to keep pace with him along the city streets. The one who had spoken looks like the only one who might be able to keep pace with Arthur, and Arthur wonders how quickly the other two will fall behind. It feels almost like a challenge.

"Right. Let's off." Arthur says, turning towards the river and breaking into a light jog. Best let them warm up, or it would be too easy.

The trip to Europe had been an unwelcome surprise. Uther had planned on going himself, but something had come up, so he had volunteered Arthur instead. Although Arthur had been mostly miserable, it hadn't been a total write-off. Arthur had managed to squeeze in his fair share of down time between handshaking sessions, and there had even been a night out in Brussels which had been enjoyable, but the blame for that rested on the Belgian Monks and their beers rather than on the quality of his companions.

As Arthur picks up speed towards Victoria Embankment Garden, he notices that two of his security contingent are, indeed, falling behind. He does not slow his pace, but puts on a stronger burst as he crosses a road, just to try to lose the third one. There is much more traffic out at this time of the evening, and Arthur finds himself having to check for passing cars as he crosses streets, something he rarely has to do when he goes out in the morning.

After sucessfully shedding his security, one of whom is merely a dark blur too far behind to be distinict, Arthur lets himself fall into the rhythm of his run. He focuses on clearing his mind as much as he can and is therefore not really thinking about anything at all when he spots Merlin coming towards him from the direction of Waterloo Bridge. Merlin and Gwen, together again.

Seeing them brings Arthur to a complete and sudden stop. He must have said Merlin's name out loud because the boy looks up at Arthur and a smile begins to form on his face. Gwen looks as though she may curtsy again.

Merlin's smile, however, is quickly changing to a wide-eyed look of fright and, turning his head to the left, Arthur realises, quite abruptly, why.

Stopping in the middle of the junction, it turns out, was a terrible, terrible idea.

There is a car barrelling down the street headed straight towards Arthur, who is too shocked to move a muscle, even if he could get out of the way in time. The car is only inches away from him when he realises that it is slowing down. Impossibly, incredibly, slowing down. Still too shocked to move his legs, Arthur contents himself with simply looking around. The car is not the only thing that is slowing down. Someone, it seems, has pressed pause on the entire world. The only thing moving at a normal speed is Merlin who is running towards Arthur as fast as he can. Their eyes meet (are Merlin's eyes glowing golden?) for a millisecond before Merlin collides into him and propels him backwards onto the pavement and out of the path of the moving car.

Almost immediately someone presses play on the world again and everything is back to normal.

Arthur is lying on the pavement, dazed, having hit his head rather solidly against the tarmac. Merlin is on top of him, breathless and trembling. Gwen is screaming. Arthur's security has finally caught up and, it seems, the driver of the car has come to a stop in the street, because there are a lot of grown men yelling very close by.

All Arthur can see is Merlin's face, his blue (definitely blue, not gold) eyes are wide with shock, and a dull pink colours his cheekbones. All Arthur can hear is the sound of Merlin's breathing, heavy in his ear. All Arthur can feel is the surprisingly insubstantial weight of Merlin's angular body pressed up against his, all hip bones and elbows. 

"Y'alright?" Merlin asks.

Arthur can't answer that question, he can only think that he's inches from Merlin's mouth and how easy it would be to lean in and kiss him here and now. Would his kiss be surprised and fearful? His lips pliant and tremulous or eager and insistent? Arthur tries to lift his head and close that space between them, but Merlin is moving off of Arthur and away, kneeling at his side. A pair of feet approach Merlin, bouncing anxiously. That must be Gwen.

"Arthur, answer me. Is your head OK?" Merlin asks.

Arthur means to say, "I'm fine.", but what actually comes out is, "You're so beautiful." 

Merlin narrows his eyes, looking worried. His right hand moves to the back of Arthur's head and comes back slick with blood.

Merlin turns and shouts something at one of Arthur's guards and then turns back to Arthur. "Look at me, Arthur. Focus on me. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Coffee. I smell coffee." Arthur mumbles. Merlin continues looking worried but smiles. The very edges of his eyes crinkle and a shallow crease forms over the bridge of his nose; Arthur is totally mesmerised. 

"Aye, that'd be me. I dropped my coffee when I rescued you. Ruined my new denims, I expect."

"'s a shame, you looked great in them."

"Uh-huh. No, don't sit up, I need you to stay still."

"Was better when you were on top of me." Arthur slurs, his voice barely audible.

"That ambulance better hurry up," Merlin says over his shoulder, "I think he's definitely got a concussion."

A police car screams to a halt, lights blaring. Arthur tries to raise his head to see what's going on, but Merlin gently holds him down. Arthur relaxes, letting himself simply feel the pressure of Merlin's bare fingers against his skin, touching lightly against one exposed collarbone. He shuts his eyes, trying to sear the feeling into his memory.

"Arthur, don't close your eyes, you've got to stay awake." Merlin says, leaning in over Arthur again, their faces too close together. "The ambulance is on the way."

Merlin keeps talking to Arthur and Arthur knows he should be paying more attention, but he feels floaty and watery so he just watches Merlin's lips move, his tongue darting out briefly here and there. Merlin keeps talking. Smiling and talking and frowning and still talking. His voice is so deep and lovely and that accent makes Arthur feel even more floaty and disorientated.

Suddenly there are others crouched down beside Merlin, pushing him out of the way. Merlin backs away but looks worried. Arthur tries to reach out for him but someone stops him - either the blond man or the dark-haired woman in bright green and yellow jackets with reflective silver stripes. Paramedics. They are conversing with Merlin in clipped tones and what seems like seconds later Arthur is being lifted onto a stretcher and placed in the back of the ambulance.

Arthur catches one final glimpse of Merlin, standing there looking helpless and frightened, his hands still covered in Arthur's blood, and then the doors of the ambulance are closing and Arthur is speeding off along the streets of London.

*

Merlin stands in front of his mirror, staring at his own reflection. He doesn't know whether to be terrified or elated and settles on a mixture of both emotions. On the one hand, how could he have been stupid enough to use his magic in front of that many people? On other hand, thank god he'd been there... 

On yet another hand, Arthur wouldn't have decided to stop in the middle of the junction if he hadn't been apparently surprised to see Merlin. The confusion Merlin feels when he considers this makes his head throb so he dismisses these thoughts. 

Merlin looks down at his hands and then lifts them slowly to his face. They are shaking badly. His short fingernails are still rimmed with Arthur's blood.

"Merlin!" Gwen shouts from his bedroom. She is a bit more hysterical than Merlin and has been shouting everything she says in high-pitched terror. "Christ. Do you think anyone noticed?" Gwen asks, her terrified face waxy looking in the dim light of his bedroom. 

"I know Arthur did, but I don't know if he'll remember what he saw or if he really knows what it means." Merlin admits. 

They have returned to the Palace after having been detained by the authorities for the better part of the evening, answering unending questions about Arthur's accident. Merlin and Gwen had been very, _very_ careful not to mention magic.

But who knows how many witnesses there had been. Anyone at all could have seen. Merlin feels sick and nervous, not to mention terrified that, even though he'd saved Arthur from getting run over, he hadn't done enough to keep him entirely out of harm's way. No one has passed on any updates as to Arthur's condition, despite Merlin’s asking after him.

In the back of his mind he keeps replaying Gaius's desperate request that Merlin not perform magic again. How disappointed Gaius will be.

The front of Merlin's mind is full of images of Arthur, looking so vulnerable, laying in Merlin's arms, smiling at him as though drunk. Saying he thought Merlin was beautiful.

There is a knock on Merlin's door and both he and Gwen look up, eyes wide. Merlin goes to answer it and George is standing there looking slightly alarmed.

"Male and female staff members are not permitted in each other's bedrooms after 11pm." He says, formally. Merlin remembers that George had previously asked out Gwen and laughs inwardly at George's obvious jealousy. 

"You certainly didn't come all the way from the Palace just on the off chance that I had a girl in my room." Merlin states.

"No." George admits and then stands himself up a bit higher. "Your presence has been requested by His Royal Highness King Uther in his chambers immediately. Both of you."

"The King? Wants to see us?" Merlin asks. George only stares at him.

Merlin looks down at his coffee-stained denims, his ruined trainers and his still blood-stained hands, then shrugs. He glances at Gwen who looks, if possible, more terrified than she had five minutes ago. He reaches out for her hand and, together, they follow George into the corridor.

They don't speak at all on the long walk through the grounds and along many corridors to the King's chambers. Gwen grips Merlin's hand so tightly it must bruise, and George keeps scrutinising the intersection of their hands. When they arrive, George leaves Merlin and Gwen standing in the corridor between the two security guards and enters the room without them. Merlin nods and smiles at the guards, neither of whom look his way. He supposes he should feel nervous, standing there about to meet the King, but that is the last emotion on Merlin's list. Finally the doors open again and George beckons Merlin and Gwen into the room.

"Wait here." He says, and then leaves, closing the doors behind him.

Merlin looks around; the room he is in is similar to every other room in the Palace - loaded with artwork and priceless antiques. Merlin is about to start a conversation with Gwen, just to break the tension when he hears a door open behind them and turns to see the King walking in, his face set and stern looking.

"Is Arthur okay?" Merlin asks, not letting the King speak. He tacks on a polite "Sir" as an afterthought.

The King is pulled up short, obviously not expecting anyone to speak. He motions for Merlin and Gwen to sit themselves on one of the antique sofas and then sits opposite them.

"You're Merlin Emrys? And Guinevere Smith?" Uther's voice is friendlier than he sounds on television as he addresses both of them in turn.

"Yes, sir." They say, almost in unison.

"Well, tell me everything, then."

"Is Arthur okay?" Merlin asks again, insistent.

"He's...recovering. They're keeping him in for observation. He has a concussion and he fractured his skull. Your fault, I've been told." There is something curious and accusatory in Uther’s tone, and Merlin feels his temper rising against his better judgement. 

"He'd have broken a lot more than that if it hadn't been for me." Merlin says, the polite tone vanishing from his voice. Gwen whimpers almost silently and squeezes Merlin's hand again.

"So I hear. Now, tell me what happened." Uther's voice has taken on a commanding tone that even Merlin doesn't consider ignoring this time. Always the King, Merlin thinks, sadly, even when his son was almost hit by a car.

Merlin explains what happened as concisely as possible, leaving out the part about his magic. It's the exact same story he's been telling the police all night long. Gwen chimes in here and there, but mostly remains silent.

When Merlin has finished, Uther regards him with a closed look on his face, and then he stands up and walks towards Merlin and Gwen who both rise from their seats as well. Uther shakes Gwen's hand and then claps one hand onto Merlin's shoulder.

"You saved my boy's life." He says, simply, "You must be rewarded. Something fitting. You will both be given the rest of the week off. Yes." 

Merlin fights back his disbelieving laugh as Gwen kicks him surreptitiously. Six day's holiday for saving Arthur's life? How ridiculous. Although, Merlin wonders what _would_ be a fitting reward? 

Before he can stop it, and regardless of how inappropriate, his mind is flooded with a vivid image of Arthur lying prone beneath him, perhaps telling Merlin again how he's beautiful, as he had this afternoon, but with fewer clothes on. That is certainly a reward Merlin would appreciate.

He and Gwen thank the King, but he waves a dismissive hand at them. "Well, if there isn't anything else..."

Gwen shakes her head but Merlin considers the situation then speaks up. “Actually I'd like to visit Arthur, sir. To apologise for fracturing his skull." Merlin has spoken very decisievely and Gwen looks as though she wants the earth to swallow her whole.

Uther stares at Merlin for a long minute and then nods, smiling. "Of course. I shall have someone make the arrangements."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 - In which Merlin goes to visit Arthur in the hospital and accidentally gets to know Gwaine a little better. 
> 
> Chapter Specific Tags: Questionably Implied Consent?

#  **Chapter 9**

Merlin’s dreams are plagued by scenarios in which he doesn't reach Arthur in time. He keeps wakening and then fretting back into fitful sleep, which makes it even worse when Gwen comes bursting into his room at the crack of dawn sounding far too cheerful for pre-sunrise.

"My Dad's bought me a train ticket so I'm off home for the week." Gwen chirps, flouncing unceremoniously onto Merlin's bed. Merlin drags the covers up over his head, willing himself back to sleep. Gwen’s hands search for Merlin under the mountainous duvet. "Morgana is, to use your terminology, raging, but there's nothing she can do about it, so I'm going."

"Fab." Merlin mutters as Gwen pulls his covers away again, "Do me a favour and go now."

"Gaius wants to see you." Gwen says, giving up on the tug-o-war. 

"'m on holiday."

”Yes, I know that, but no one seems to have told Gaius. He says he needs to see you. Now.”

Merlin turns over and rubs his eyes, unable to stop himself from glaring at Gwen. She takes his reaction with good grace, pulling on his covers so that he falls out of his bed onto the floor.

“Go and see him, Merlin. I'm away to the station.”

Merlin tries to untangle himself from his pile of blankets and manages to get his head dislodged before Gwen leaves.

”Have a good time at home.” Merlin says, as cheerfully as possible, hoping to make up for his bad behaviour so far this morning. “Love you!” He tacks on as an afterthought.

“I know you do, you idiot. Don't get in too much trouble while I'm gone, OK?” Gwen returns to where Merlin is attempting to stand and kisses the top of his head.

“I won't.” He says. She turns around from the doorway to look at him with the most disbelieving look she can manage while trying not to laugh. ”OK, fine. I'll _try_ not to.”

*

Merlin is half dressed and towelling his hair dry when he answers the insistent knock on his door, throwing on the nearest t-shirt and buttoning his jeans. 

"Have you just woken up?" Gaius says witheringly, and then, without waiting for Merlin to answer, he continues, “I was expecting to see you sooner than this.”

“It was a late night.” Merlin says, wondering what has the old man in such a bad mood this morning, although assuming it has something to do with magic.

”We're going to visit Arthur. Get dressed.”

"I _am_ dressed."

Gaius gives him a disdainful once over and then shrugs. "Let's go, then."

Merlin retreats into his room, throws his wet towel over the back of a chair and toes into his shoes before going back to meet Gaius at the door. Merlin attempts to start a conversation with Gaius a few times on their walk to the gates, but Gaius only tuts at him in an impatient way, so Merlin gives up.

Once they are safely in the car, however, Gaius starts in on him.

“You've done it again, Merlin.” Gaius says, annoyance evident in the clipped tone of his voice. Merlin cringes as they come far too close to a lorry for his liking, but Gaius zips easily in and out of the busy traffic without seeming to pay any attention to the road at all.

“Magic?” Merlin asks, though he knows what Gaius means. Conversations about magic are the only time that Gaius uses this particular tone of voice.

”Yes, magic, idiot boy. What else could I be talking about?”

”How d’you know?” Merlin asks, clutching tightly at his seatbelt as Gaius nearly wipes out a smart car and a girl on a scooter without blinking. Gaius doesn't answer, but his silence is angry. “Look, I ken I’m meant to be careful, Gaius. You warned me what might happen and I believe you, I really do. But I couldn't think of anything else. There was a car coming and Arthur was going to get hit.” Merlin shudders inwardly at the memory. It really had been very close. “It was the only thing I could think of to save his life.”

Gaius pulls up outside the hospital, slamming on the brakes and making Merlin pitch forward in his seat. 

“Merlin, I'm grateful that you saved Arthur's life, of course I am, I just wish you hadn't used your magic to do it.”

”No one saw me, Gaius.” 

“You can't know that.” Gaius says, shaking his head. There is a sadness in Gaius’s voice, an aeon’s old tiredness, that pierces Merlin through to his bones, but before Merlin can say anything in response he hears the click of the door locks unlatching and knows their conversation is over. At least Gaius hadn't really, properly shouted at him. 

”You'll have to make your own way back, I'm afraid. I don't have time to come collect you. Arthur is in room 217.”

“You're not coming with me?” Merlin asks, feeling silently grateful that he won't have to ride back in Gaius's car, but nervous at the prospect of going to see Arthur on his own.

"No. Come see me when you return to the Palace.”

Merlin watches Gaius vanish into traffic and then turns to the hospital. It's a small, private hospital and he's made to show his badge to gain access to the building. As he walks through the lobby he notices a small, posh looking coffee stand and, thinking that Arthur might take more kindly to his appearance if he comes bearing gifts, he stops to get them both something to drink.

Room 217 is not hard to find, especially with the guard detail sitting in hard, uncomfortable-looking chairs outside it. Merlin shows them his ID badge which they scrutinise far too thoroughly for Merlin's liking, as though doubting its validity, but they let him through in any case and he knocks on Arthur's door.

"Come in." Arthur says. 

Merlin does, holding both cups of coffee in one hand and tucking them under his chin so they don't spill. Arthur is lying in bed looking both extremely comfortable and extremely uncomfortable at the same time. There is a bandage wrapped around his head and quite a few plastic tubes snaking out from his arms. He looks exhausted.

"Merlin!" he exclaims, and Merlin is glad to hear no animosity in his voice. He'd been worried Arthur might blame him for everything.

"I brought coffee." Merlin says, shyly, holding a cup out towards Arthur, who takes it from him and then raises it to his nose and inhales deeply.

"Thank you. The sludge they tried to serve me this morning was barely drinkable."

”You’ve not tasted this yet.” Merlin says, taking a sip out of his own cup and cringing dramatically. Arthur laughs, but stops abruptly with a hand on his head and a pained look on his face. There is an extremely long silence as they regard each other awkwardly. Merlin doesn't really know what to say - how does one apologise for something like this? He tries the plain and simple approach. "I'm sorry I broke your skull."

Arthur looks at him with that one eyebrow raised. Even with the bandages on his head and looking like he hasn't slept in a year, Arthur is still the most attractive person Merlin has ever seen in real life. His lips are slightly chapped and there's a good growth of stubble on his chin. Merlin spends a few long seconds imagining the feel of it against his skin.

"You saved my life." Arthur says, with what looks like a painful shrug of his shoulder. 

"Aye, I guess I did." Merlin nods at him.

Neither of them speak for another long moment. It's usually so easy to talk to Arthur but with so many questions hanging in the air Merlin finds conversation very difficult. He wants to come right out and ask, “ _I take it you noticed I'm a wizard then? Also, do you, by any chance, think I'm beautiful?_ "

"It was lucky I ran into you. Both." Arthur says, looking down at his cup.

"Aye." Merlin nods, looking at his own cup stupidly. 

"What...What were you up to?"

The question surprises Merlin and he looks up at Arthur who is staring so hard at the coffee cup in his hands it looks like he's trying to translate the _Caution:Hot_ warning. Why would Arthur care what he and Gwen get up to? "We weren't skiving off, if that's what you're asking."

The statement seems to confuse Arthur, who finally looks up at him. 

"No. Why? No. I was just wondering what you'd been up to. You know, you and...Gwen."

"Oh. We were just out." The answer does not seem to satisfy Arthur, so Merlin explains more. "We were looking for locations from a book that's set in London. Gwen said she knew of some so we went to find them." It ends up sounding pretty lame. 

"What book?"

"'Neverwhere' by Neil Gaiman. Gwen bought it for me. I was feeling kind of rubbish about having to move to London and, well, I was actually pretty miserable, and she thought it might cheer me up." 

"Having to? Why having to?"

It's Merlin's turn to look away. He can feel his cheeks flushing and feels that he ought to answer carefully to avoid hurting Arthur's feelings. Which is entirely absurd, but it's how he feels in any case. 

"I didn't have a choice in coming to London. No one asked me."

"But you're seventeen."

"Aye, and penniless. It was either live on the streets or come here with Gaius."

"Surely it isn't that..."

"When I say penniless I mean really, properly poor. No television poor. No central heating poor.” Merlin says, interrupting Arthur before he has a chance to speak. Merlin could explain about his Mum's illness and the debts on the house, but he doesn't.

"Oh." The awkwardness of this silence trumps any other. Arthur is fiddling with the plastic lid of his coffee cup and looking at anything at all besides Merlin. 

"I suppose I could have joined the army." Merlin shrugs, trying to sound serious. 

Arthur chokes on his coffee, laughing. "You would be totally crap in the Army, Emrys."

"Aye, I would at that." Merlin agrees, smiling. All the awkwardness has vanished with Arthur's teasing. It feels easy between them again, and Merlin likes that more than he wants to admit. He takes another sip of his coffee, feeling Arthur's eyes on him.

After a long moment, Arthur says, "You look awful."

"It was a long night. Police interviews, meeting your father..."

Arthur finches visibly, "How was it?"

"Well, he's glad I saved your life but quite hacked off that I broke your skull in the process. Honestly, there's no pleasing him."

"You can say that again."

"He gave Gwen and me the week off, so he must have been grateful, really." Merlin watches Arthur for any reaction, but gets nothing. "How's your head?" 

"Agony."

"I really am sorry about that." 

Arthur shrugs off the apology. "You saved my life."  Arthur pauses as if remembering, "It's all a bit of a blur, to be honest. I didn't think you'd get to me in time."

"Ach, well I'm faster than I look." Here is Merlin's chance to see exactly what Arthur remembers. Part of him wants Arthur to remember the magic, at least, that way it's all out in the open, but part of him isn't ready to have THAT conversation. So he hedges his bets, giving Arthur an easy out. "I'll tell you one thing for free, though; you were right out of it after you fell."

"After you pushed me." Arthur looks into Merlin's eyes, smiling.

"After I pushed you, aye." Merlin concedes. "Well, you were babbling all sorts of things." There's a second where they look at each other with the word _"beautiful"_ suspended between them, then Arthur's expression changes and the moment passes. Merlin swallows slowly. "Like I said, though, you were pretty out of it."

"Completely." Arthur looks away after a pause and Merlin feels a little hollow.

There is a brief knock on the door and a nurse comes in. "Excuse me, sir, but we need to check you."

"Again?"

"Sorry."

"I was just going anyway." Merlin rises from his chair. "I'm glad you're okay, Arthur." He says, resting his hand for the briefest second on Arthur's left forearm. The skin feels very warm beneath Merlin's fingers and, before he can stop himself he feels his thumb run along the soft skin of Arthur's left wrist. Feeling like he's lost his head completely, Merlin doesn't chance a look at Arthur until he's retreated to the doorway. 

The nurse is holding her hands up towards Arthur saying, "Good. Now push my hands away...and pull them towards you..."

Arthur is following her instructions but he's staring at Merlin, his face white and his eyes wide.

_What the fuck was all that about at the end there? Way to ruin everything, Emrys, you complete fucking idiot!_

Merlin waits a few desperate seconds to let his adrenaline subside then heads down the corridor, throwing his mostly full coffee away. It had been going so well. Sure, it had been awkward at the beginning, but then it had been good again; just him and Arthur.

As Merlin heads down the hospital stairs, deciding whether or not to bang his head against the wall, he meets Gwaine coming in the opposite direction. They stop, facing each other on the landing. 

"Oh, hey. Merlin, isn't it?"

"Aye."

"Just been visiting His Royal Pratness?"

"Aye." Merlin says with a smile. His nerves are completely shot and the encounter with Arthur has left him both terrified and completely turned on. Gwaine being here doesn't help the matter, what with him being the second best looking person Merlin has ever met in real life.

"They tell me you broke his skull."

"Aye, I did at that." Merlin laughs it off, surprised his voice isn't cracking.

Gwaine holds out a hand for Merlin to shake, which Merlin does. Gwaine's handshake is strong and, again, slightly longer than is proper. 

"I can give you a list of people who've been wanting to do that." Gwaine says. There is something low and dangerous in his voice which makes Merlin wish they weren't alone.

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose." Merlin says, trying to be defensive and taking half a step back.

"It's a shame, that." 

And, before he can blink or breathe, Gwaine is leaning into Merlin, pressing his whole body against him and pushing Merlin up against the wall of the stairway. The hand Merlin had been shaking encircles his wrist and Gwaine's other hand goes to Merlin's hair, pulling him into a vicious, bruising kiss.

Merlin is stunned into complete inaction for a few seconds and then his body reacts without much conscious thought and he is kissing Gwaine back enthusiastically.

As quickly as it started, it's over. Gwaine backs away, leaving Merlin breathless.

"The handshake was for breaking his skull," Gwaine says, smiling evilly, " _That_ was for saving his life."

And then Gwaine departs, leaving Merlin alone in the stairway.  He waits until he hears the door to the corridor slam shut, then relaxes against the wall, clearing his throat and exhaling sharply. 

"Aye, that'll do." Merlin gasps into the emptiness before making his way back down the steps and out into the London sunshine. 

*

After Merlin leaves, Arthur follows the nurse's instructions rather distractedly, wondering what the hell had just happened.

He'd enjoyed the conversation, of course, and had been very pleased indeed that Merlin had come all the way here to see him, but then Merlin had gone and confused him again! The mixed signals are driving Arthur crazy, that's for sure.

"Hey, Arthur, how're you feeling?" 

Arthur looks up to see Gwaine in the doorway. He looks rather more flushed than usual, and more attractive for it. Arthur curses himself for having such stupidly attractive friends. The nurse's attention is diverted, at least, and she garbles her latest instruction. Gwaine misses nothing and flashes her a devastating grin.

"Pretty shite actually, Gwaine." Arthur says, failing to interrupt their eye sex, "What are you even doing here, shouldn't you be in Oxford?"

Gwaine has either not heard Arthur speak, or just can't be bothered to answer. The nurse is inching her way across the room towards him as though drawn by an invisible force. Arthur would normally laugh, but today he doesn't find Gwaine's behaviour remotely funny.

Thankfully, for Arthur's sake, an alarm sounds from somewhere down the corridor, and the nurse exits the room, murmuring a rushed apology over her shoulder, more in Gwaine's direction than Arthur's.

"Your concern for me is touching, Gwaine, really." Arthur says sarcastically, watching Gwaine nearly follow the girl out of the room. He turns at the last minute and takes the seat by the bed that Merlin had just vacated.

"Sorry, mate, but she's alright, isn't she?"

Arthur doesn't bother to answer. No doubt the girl will be spending a few of the upcoming evenings in Gwaine's company, and more power to them both. Arthur, for his part, absentmindedly traces the ghost of Merlin's fingers where they had touched his wrist.

Once Gwaine's attention is back on Arthur they pass a pleasant hour chatting about nothing in particular. Gwaine asks for Arthur's help on an upcoming paper, and Arthur promises to forward him a list of research material that may be of assistance. He refuses to help Gwaine actually write the paper.

They talk about Lance and how distracted he's been lately. Gwaine tries to talk about Morgana and Morgause, but Arthur changes the subject and instead they talk about how much of a dick Percival can be.

"He was a plonker the other night, though, wasn't he? Why'd he need to be like that with Merlin and..." Gwaine narrows his eyes, trying to remember her name.

"Gwen." Arthur supplies, unable to help the dejected sound of his voice.

"Yeah, her. Percy was a right tit, wasn't he?"

"Who's surprised?" Arthur asks. Gwaine laughs and Arthur smiles. It's very Percy.

"That Merlin bloke, though. Oft. Am I right?" Gwaine shakes his head, looking into the distance. Arthur feels a tidal wave of jealousy just at the look on Gwaine's face, but is afraid to react in case Gwaine guesses his true feelings.

Arthur changes the subject again and they talk about music for ten minutes or so until the nurse pops her head around the corner of the door. Gwaine excuses himself, says goodbye to Arthur and escorts the nurse into the corridor where he, undoubtedly, arranges their first date.

She is distracted when she returns, but that suits Arthur, who is too tired to carry on any more than half hearted conversation anyway.

After the nurse leaves Arthur leans back and closes his eyes, exhausted. He traces his wrist again, wondering how long he'll have to wait to feel Merlin's touch, if he'll ever have the pleasure again.

*

Merlin sits on his new bed and looks around the room, not quite able to believe what has happened. He'd walked back from the hospital and met with Gaius just after lunch, when Gaius had happily informed him that he and Gwen were being awarded a high honour and their accommodation was being relocated into the Palace itself.

It had only taken Merlin one trip to move all of his belongings.

The new room is larger than his previous one, but the ceiling isn't as high, which makes it feel cozier. He's unpacked his clothes into the modern wardrobe and re-hung his London A-Z map on the wall. His mother's portrait sits proudly on his new bedside table.

He and Gwen now share a bathroom which is situated between their rooms and features a spacious bathtub with shower. It's incredibly lush. Merlin can't help the giggle that bubbles up when he wonders what his mother would say to him if she could see him now.

Gwen's room is located in the same suite, across a sort of communal sitting area where there's a television and everything. Merlin tries to take some pictures with his phone and send them to Will, but his phone does not cooperate, and he gives up before he crushes the device to smithereens. He'll need to get a new phone sometime soon, but it is not a priority.

After he has pinched himself a few times to ensure he isn't dreaming, Merlin returns to Gaius's offices. He knows he is meant to be on holiday, but Gaius has been very forgiving about the magic, which makes Merlin more eager to be in his company. It's not as if he's bored at work, anyway, he laughs as he returns to the enormous pile of books he has been charged with searching.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 - In which Arthur returns to the Palace and makes a small discovery and Merlin makes a rather larger discovery of his own. 
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

#  **Chapter 10**

Arthur returns to the Palace two days later, but only because he refuses to stay in hospital any longer. He doesn't see the point of taking up a bed when he feels (mostly) fine, and he's tired of being pampered. Of course Uther had argued, but Arthur had won, so now he's home. He _is_ under strict house arrest, though, of that Uther is certain.

So now Arthur sits in his bedroom, bored beyond the reckoning. His bed is strewn with various books that he's picked up, tried to read, and then abandoned. He's tried contacting Morgana, Gwaine, Leon, Lance, and Percival, but everyone is either busy or out of town. 

Of course, he has to remind himself, it's term time and most of his friends are at Uni. As his is a correspondence course he is not expected to attend any actual classes - he usually just checks his e-mails for news or assignments from his professors. All three professors have told him that he is to take his time recovering and return to coursework when he is good and ready. Although he tries to have his professors treat him as equal to their other students, he knows they give him leeway - he is their future king, after all.  

So he doesn't do his coursework. Which is fine, as he's not really feeling up to it. But, he is bored and restless. He wants to go for a run, which he knows is a terrible idea because, if he's completely honest with himself, his head does still hurt rather a lot. But his body is tense and achy; he feels like a tightly coiled spring. Three days with no physical activity, and, if he follows his doctor's instructions, no high-impact activity for ages.

Arthur misses running. It's his one release from the immense pressure of his life. His one time when he can just let it all go. He misses the escape, he misses the exercise, and he misses his city.

He pushes a few books aside and rises from the bed slowly, his head throbbing in protest. If he can't run, perhaps he'll go for a nice walk. Maybe just getting up and out of his bedroom will help him feel better. 

He considers going to see Uther, but thinks it isn't worth the argument and decides instead to visit Gaius. He doesn't bother trying to convince himself that the old man is the only one he wants to see and that he's not secretly hoping to run into Merlin as well.

Arthur may not remember much from the accident, but it's been proving very hard to forget the feel of Merlin's body against his, or the look of concern in Merlin's blue eyes. Or the touch of his fingers, however fleeting, on Arthur's left wrist.

So Arthur heads off in the direction of Gaius's chambers, padding slowly down the corridor in his socks. He decides to take the most ambling way he knows so as to draw the journey out, enjoying being on the move, although he hasn't gone more than a few hundred feet when he hears a door shut behind him.

"Arthur! I didn't know you were back!" Arthur turns, slowly, to see Merlin coming towards him. He's wearing battered Converse, jeans, and a white t-shirt and he has a leather bag slung over one shoulder. "I'd've come to see you."

Arthur doesn't like the way his stomach lurches when Merlin says this, but he manages a smile anyway. Merlin falls into step beside him and they continue down the corridor.

"Just got back this afternoon." Arthur says. "What are you doing here? I mean, here." Arthur says, gesturing at the corridor. Merlin seems to have come from one of the bedroom suites.

"Ach, well, apparently Gaius is so grateful that I saved your life he's pulled some strings and arranged for my living quarters to be moved within the Palace." 

Merlin seems pleased with the address change, something Arthur had worried about when he had arranged for the move - via Gaius, of course, so as not to be detected. It means Merlin is close at hand and, as an added bonus, further away from Gwen. Arthur feels a little like a genius for orchestrating the move. 

"Which is, I think, Gaius's way of apologising for not actually giving me the week off as your father suggested." Arthur can feel Merlin’s eyes on him at the mention of Uther, and Arthur is careful to school his features and give nothing away.

"And are you being kept busy?" Arthur asks, hoping to sound casual.

"Very."

"What is it you're doing with Gaius, anyway? What exactly does a Personal Assistant to the Royal Physician get up to?” Arthur asks, genuinely curious.

Merlin seems pleased that Arthur has remembered his job title, and smiles to himself as he considers the question. "Not much." He says, eventually, his voice rising in a question as though he's making a confession.

"But you're busy?"

"Aye." Merlin laughs. Arthur waits for him to explain, but he doesn't.

They walk a little while in a companionable silence, and Arthur watches out of the corner of his eye as Merlin pulls an ancient mobile phone out of his shoulder bag. Merlin catches him watching and stuffs the phone awkwardly out of sight into his back pocket.

"Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but you look like hell." Merlin says, obviously to deflect attention from himself, and eyeing Arthur up and down. Arthur frowns. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine." Merlin raises one eyebrow. "No, that's a lie. I feel like shit. My head's fine," He adds in response to Merlin's worried look, "don't apologise again! It's just that I'm tired of doing nothing. I'm used to being on the move. I need to go for a RUN."

"Aye, that's likely." Merlin chuckles.

"Alright then, maybe not a run. But I need to get out and move at least! I'm not used to being stuck inside, but I can't do anything with my head still healing."

"I _am_ sorry about that." Merlin says. Arthur waves the apology away. "What does your father think of you going for a run again after what happened?" 

"I don't think he'd ever let me outside again if he had his way." Arthur turns down another long corridor, enjoying walking with Merlin.

"I bet." Merlin’s chuckle is like a living thing in the cavernous corridor and Arthur lets the sound wash over him. 

"But he's being ridiculous. I'm perfectly safe out there most of the time. I just got distracted. Anyone can get hit by a car, they didn't hit me because I'm me." 

"No, I suppose you're right enough there." Merlin says, nodding. He's in the process of untangling his headphone wires but he's doing a terrible job. Arthur fights the urge to take them off him and untangle them properly, but only because he's enjoying watching Merlin's long fingers as they thread through the wires. 

"Normally I'm safe out there.” Arthur continues, distracted, “He already makes me take too many guards along - guards who can never keep up, I might add, which makes them fairly superfluous. And besides that,  it's not as though anyone knows where I go and when..." Merlin has stopped walking and, looking back, Arthur trails off at the look on his face. "What?"

"You're serious, aren't you?" 

"Yes. Why?"

"Arthur, of course they know where you go and when." Merlin says, trying hard not to laugh. "There's a website and a Facebook and Twitter page devoted to it. They call it _Arthurwatch_."

"What?" Arthur pulls out his own phone and finds the page online in an instant. Merlin stops trying to untangle his headphones and turns to face Arthur.

"Look, you're _Prince Arthur_. They're all just hoping for the chance to pass you or see you or meet you. One follower, BigRed87, she nearly suffered heart failure a few weeks ago because you nodded at her."

Arthur remembers the girl with the long, red hair that he'd seen a few times. He feels rather sick and very disappointed… he'd thought he could go out and just be himself without everyone giving a damn or having an opinion or an agenda. Apparently not.

"Christ, Emrys." Arthur says, scrolling through the page, "I bet Uther knows all about this, too!"

Merlin looks at Arthur with an extremely apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry, I thought you knew." Merlin says, his voice quiet. Arthur is still scrolling. "You're not going to make me wash all your sports gear again, are you?" Merlin asks, a note of genuine fear in his voice. 

"There's pictures!” Arthur cries, stricken. Merlin sounds an awful lot like he's trying hard not to laugh. Arthur scrolls some more, his heart sinking. “God, I look _awful_ in that baseball hat."

Merlin, apparently now unable to help himself, starts laughing. Arthur stares at him until he stops.

"This isn't funny, Emrys. This is a disaster!"

"I'm sorry!" Merlin says, not sounding the least bit sincere. 

Arthur heads back the same way they were heading, curses a few times then stops scrolling before he drives himself crazy. Merlin follows him, still trying to stifle his laughter, but stops by an external door. 

"This is me," Merlin says. Arthur nods at him, continuing to walk. Merlin turns back halfway out the door. "For what it's worth, I like the hat." 

"Christ!" Arthur shouts in frustration, "I haven't ruled the washing out, yet, Emrys!" Arthur calls through the shutting door. The security guard pretends not to have witnessed the exchange, for which Arthur is very grateful.

Though as he's walking away he wonders, with horror, if there's a website for that sort of thing too.

*

"You do realise I've been given six days off, don't you Gaius?" Merlin asks, rubbing his eyes.

"You don't need time off, Merlin, you're hardly taxing yourself. Now, come here and see this, I've been doing some research." Gaius replies, pointing to an ancient book on his desk.

"You astonish me." Merlin sighs, collapsing into a chair. It's too early for anything.

"Get up." Gaius says, turning a page. Merlin ignores him. "This is one of your father's books," (which gets Merlin out of the chair rather quickly), "And I think this passage might interest you." Gaius points to a small paragraph on a page illustrated with a flame breathing dragon. 

" _The Dragon Lords are all powerful and must be obeyed and respected ere the destruction of all. Beware false testimonies. A true Dragon Lord will enchant without speaking spells and can be identified by the markings here illustrated._ " Merlin reads aloud.

He looks up to see Gaius watching him very closely. "What markings?"

"Here." Gaius points to the illustration of the dragon. Merlin can see darkened points, almost like a dot to dot. A coldness begins to creep over him and, as if looking into a mirror he can picture, quite clearly, the constellation of marks that sprinkle his ribcage below his right arm.

"Do you have any such markings?" Gaius asks, excitement (and something else - fear?) in his voice. Merlin looks into the old man's face.

"Not that I'm aware of." He didn't know he was going to lie until the words were said, and the lie feels sick in his mouth.

A look of half relief and half disappointment flashes across Gaius's face for a second, replaced by well rehearsed indifference.

"Wait," Merlin says, figuring he might as well make a good go of it, "you thought I was one of these, what are they called again?"

"Dragon Lord." Gaius replies, "and I thought you might be, yes." Gaius slams the book shut and hands it to Merlin. "Be grateful that you're not, my boy. It is not a destiny you want to bear."

"What even is it?"

"The Dragon Lords are an extinct line of wizards who used to reign in ancient times. They were born with incredible power and that made them natural leaders. This is before magic was banished to the shadows, back when magic was necessary to protect the common people from the beasts that roamed the wild. Beasts like griffins, manticores. And dragons."

"Dragons?" Merlin asks incredulously. 

"Hence the name. These Dragon Lords were the keepers of magical power and learning and were treated like kings. They could talk to Dragons and, in some notable cases, tame them. They were the most powerful people in the world."

"And you thought I might be one of them?” Merlin infuses his voice with all the incredulity he can muster. “How can that be, you said they were extinct?"

"They were." Is all Gaius says, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looks a hundred years older than he had ten minutes ago. Merlin isn't convinced his lie has fooled the old man, but he seems happy enough to believe it. Perhaps Gaius's quick acceptance has more to do with willful ignorance than with finding the truth.

"And why, exactly, are you so relieved that I'm not?" Merlin seats himself in the chair opposite Gaius's desk, his father's book on his lap.

"You would be hunted." Gaius says simply. Merlin looks up at him and, for the first time, feels like he's looking at a family member and not just someone for whom he works.

"Hunted? By whom?" Merlin is displeased to hear the childish fear in his voice.

"Everyone." Gaius's voice is unusually stern. "This wouldn't merely be a case of the general public being uncomfortable with you or frightened. This would be a case of witches and wizards, people with real and terrible powers, coming after you because they’re afraid you might try to control them and they're used to working on their own without rules or guidance. This is about world leaders sending their armies after you because they're afraid you'll usurp them."

"Usurp them? I'm seventeen! I don't want to usurp anyone!"

"Which is why," Gaius says, his voice measured, "it is a very good thing that you are _not_ a Dragon Lord. Right?"

In that instant Merlin is certain that Gaius knows.

"Right." Merlin says, after a long and ringing silence.

Neither of them speak for a while. Merlin's thoughts are racing. A Dragon Lord? What the hell does that even mean? He's never even heard of them!

"Still," Merlin says, picking at the laces of his trainers, "best not to do any magic at all, right?"

"As a general rule, I think that would be wise." Gaius pauses as though waiting for something, so Merlin looks up at him. "Even though you're..."

" _Not_ a Dragon Lord." Merlin says, his voice low and frightened. At this moment he feels very much like an orphan, and he wants nothing more than to go running home to his mother's arms. "I can't be." It sounds like a plea.

They look at each other for a long time before Merlin leaves the office and closes the door behind him.

*

Merlin rushes straight to his room, pulling his t-shirt off before the door has even closed. He stands before the mirror in the bathroom and lifts his arm above his head. There they are, the marks, exactly like in the book. 

According to his mother, his father had had a similar mark. Merlin thought it was a curious assertion of genetics and nothing more. Apparently he was mistaken.

Merlin traces the familiar marks with trembling fingers.

A Dragon Lord. 

He throws his t-shirt on as he wanders back through to his bedroom. He picks up his mother’s portrait, looking her straight in the eye. Had she known? Was that why she had lied to Merlin and made him believe he could be imprisoned for his magic?

He sets the picture down again, feeling the thickness of tears in his throat.

He doesn't know why he hadn't told Gaius the truth, but something deep inside him had urged the lie, and he had followed. Whether Gaius could see through him or not wasn't an immediate concern. He would tell Gaius, eventually, but not before he could be sure what it means. 

If it’s some deep-seated destiny thing, Merlin is having none of it. He is not a leader and he doesn't particularly want to be a leader.

Also the mortal peril doesn't sound too fun either.

Merlin stuffs his father's book into his shoulder bag and heads out into the city to conduct his own research.

If Gaius needs him Merlin will just remind him that, by order of The King, he's on holiday.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 - In which Merlin: tries to come to terms with the Dragon Lord situation (and fails completely), falls into an unexpected situation, and enters into a wager with Arthur which he may come to regret.
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

#  **Chapter 11**

"Will, it's me. I know you're working twenty hours a day but I really, really need to speak to you. Please just phone me when you can. Miss you."

Merlin hangs up the phone then dials another number and waits for someone to answer. 

"Gwen, hi, it's Merlin. How's home? Listen, I know you're probably really busy at the moment but could you phone me please if you can? Nothing urgent, I just really need someone to talk to. Speak soon."

Merlin hangs up the phone again and feels tears sting the back of his eyes. This is too much to deal with on his own, and he’s honestly never in his life been more alone.

He is in the sitting room surrounded by books and photocopies and hand-written notes. He has been up most of the night reading about Dragon Lords, starting with the book his father had left him.

It isn’t good.

It is all death and destruction and, as Gaius had said, being hunted. Hundreds of years ago, after magic had been banished in the world, the Dragon Lords had been systematically hunted down and murdered. 

However, the one thing Merlin has become certain of through all of his research is that he is, undoubtedly, a Dragon Lord. _The_ Dragon Lord, actually, as there’s only ever one, like kings. His father, it seems, had been one as well. The first one for centuries.

What he needs to do is talk to Gaius about Dragon Lords _in general_ without seeming to be too interested. He also needs to do more research including a Google search, however newfangled Gaius thinks that technology is. Someone out there in the wider world must know more than Merlin has been able to ascertain from the books in Gaius’s library.

Merlin closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and rolls his shoulders to rid himself of the tension, enjoying the sound of his bones cracking. He’s going to need coffee before speaking to Gaius. So he gets up from the floor and shoves a few sheets of paper into his bag, grabs his phone, throws a jacket on and heads for the door.  

A few moments later he can be found standing at the exit, looking through the doors at the torrential downpour outside. He briefly considers going out anyway but doesn't get a chance to act before someone comes bursting through the door, bringing with them half the rain in the world.

"Oh, God! I'm so sorry!" The girl says, turning to help Merlin up from where he's fallen and getting him even more wet.

"No bother." Merlin says, even though he is bothered. Which isn't her fault, it's just his mood.

The young woman is very pretty. As she removes her hat, cascades of golden waves fall to her shoulders. She has blue eyes and a cunning, clever face.

"Look, I've gotten rain all over your nice jacket! I'm terribly sorry!"

"Listen, I said it's no bother. Honestly." Merlin tries to smile reassuringly and it seems to work because the girl relaxes. 

"You must be Merlin." She says.

"Must be?" Merlin asks, confused.

"It's the accent." She admits. "Also, he said you were cute and he wasn't wrong."

Cute? Merlin thinks, his heart suddenly pounding. _He_ thinks I'm cute? Who is _he_?

When it becomes clear that Merlin isn't going to say anything, the girl smiles again. "I'm Morgause."

"Oh! How nice to meet you. I'm Merlin, but you already know that. Sorry. I think you maybe knocked my brain out when you knocked me over." All the while Merlin is thinking who is _HE_?

She lets out a small laugh. "I've heard a lot about you and, actually, I know someone who's dying to meet you. If you've got time?"

Merlin considers all the panicking he had planned for this afternoon and decides a distraction would probably do him good.

"Sure." He says, following Morgause's lead down the corridor. They walk a while in silence, neither sure of what to say.

"I hear you're working with Gaius."

"Aye. You're Nimueh's apprentice, right?” And before he can stop himself, he asks, “Does that mean you have magic?"

"Yeah, but it's not scary if that's what you're going to ask. So far it's a lot of memorising boring old spells and learning history."

Merlin has to forcibly stop himself from telling her that he has magic, too. It’s all well and good saying Gaius has magic, but this is the first time he’s met anyone even close to his own age who has powers, too. Finally he would have someone to talk to about this!

But, with Gaius’s dire warnings fresh in his mind, Merlin says nothing.

“I don’t know much about magic,” Merlin says, realising that is, strictly speaking, not a lie, “but Gaius has asked me to help him organise his library.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun.” Morgause says, turning them both down another corridor. 

“It’s more fun than it sounds, actually. I find it fascinating, all these old books.”

Morgause looks at him like he’s a little bit crazy which, Merlin considers, might be true. “Nimueh doesn’t let me do much magic yet, but there’s a lot to learn.” Morgause looks over her shoulder twice before whispering, "She's scary. Nimueh, I mean. She's brilliant, but scary."

Merlin laughs. "So I've heard."

"You haven't met her? That's surprising, considering how closely she works with Gaius."

"Does she?" Merlin asks, genuinely surprised. 

"We spend a lot of time in his library. I guess not since you’ve arrived, though.”

"Oh." Merlin says, lamely, not knowing what that really means. “Maybe Gaius doesn’t want to frighten me away by exposing me to real magic?” Why is it so easy to lie about this?

“I guess. I mean, you do get a lot of people who claim to be tolerant until they’re faced with the act of magic.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, well, it might be legal now, but there’s still a lot of opposition. I was born…” She pauses for a few seconds, looking at Merlin over her shoulder, “Not in England, anyway, but my family sent me away because I could have been killed in my home country, even as a baby.”

“That’s terrible.” Merlin says, genuinely horrified. 

Morgause shrugs as though it’s not really a big deal. They stop outside a door and Morgause knocks once, quietly.

“I’m glad they did it, because here in England I can just live my life without fear of being murdered in my sleep. If I had stayed there, I would always have had to hide who I really am. It’s a blessing.” She seems completely convinced, so Merlin fights the urge to argue with her.

According to Gaius his Mum and Dad had moved to Scotland before Merlin was even born. Was that something similar? Gaius had used the term _escaped_...

The door opens suddenly and The Lady Morgana appears. Merlin feels his mouth open in awe. She is wearing a royal blue dress and her hair is twisted into a cascade of shining dark curls; she is stunningly beautiful. Merlin, of course, has seen her plastered all over the media since he was born, but she is much more beautiful in person. Kind of like Arthur.

"Morgause! I didn't know you were coming to see me!" Morgana eyes Morgause greedily, then turns her eyes to Merlin. She looks him up and down extremely critically and it makes him feel very much like an uninvited guest. "Who is this?"

"I'm Merlin." He asserts, returning her withering gaze defiantly.

In an instant Morgana's face melts from haughty disapproval into a devastatingly beautiful smile and she encloses Merlin into a brief but crushing hug.

"Merlin!" She says, releasing him, "Oh, how wonderful. Come and have a cup of tea."

Which is how Merlin finds himself seven minutes later, perched on the edge of a floral armchair, having afternoon tea with Arthur's cousin and her girlfriend. In the midst of desperately trying not to embarrass himself to death, all thoughts of magic and destiny are completely forgotten.

"So, tell me, _Merlin_ , what do you do in your spare time apart from rescue my beloved baby cousin from maniac motorists?"

"Um..." Merlin stutters. He can think of nothing that would sound interesting to anyone. 

"Come on, you must do something." Morgana prompts.

"To be honest, I spend a lot of time in Gaius's office, reading. It's painfully dull."

"I expect it would be." Morgana says, laughing delicately and nibbling the edge of tiny, crust-less sandwich triangle. "And are you reading anything interesting?"

"Not yet." Merlin sighs, and both women laugh. "Although he's pretty flexible about my hours as long as I get the work done, which is good because I'm not really a morning person."

"Arthur mentioned you like your coffee." Morgana says. Merlin breaks out in a nervous sweat. Arthur had mentioned him to Morgana? That must mean something, right?

"Not like. _Need_. More than oxygen some days." Merlin admits. The ladies laugh again. Merlin makes a conscious decision to relax and enjoy himself. He takes a sip of his tea from the tiny, incredibly breakable teacup. It's very nice. He helps himself to a miniature chocolate eclair. 

"What do you do outside of work, though?" Morgause asks. 

"Well, I grew up in a very small village so London is...amazing. I'm trying to see as much as I can before I leave."

"Leave?" Morgause asks curiously.

"Yes. I'm planning to stay until just after my birthday and then I'm going back home to Scotland." 

"My cousin will be sad to see you go, Merlin. He's grown strangely fond of you."

Merlin inhales some tea and splutters for a moment, deeply embarrassed. He drops a teaspoon on purpose and ducks below the table to retrieve it. She thinks Arthur is fond of him! That must mean something, right? 

When he rejoins the conversation he finds the two women are now discussing Nimueh and Morgause's training schedule and comparing diaries. Merlin munches a sandwich triangle as quietly as possible, tuning out their discussion.

So, Arthur had mentioned him to his cousin. On more than one occasion it seems. What does that even mean? Merlin decides that freaking out about Arthur in front of his cousin is probably not the best idea, so he tries to pull himself back into the conversation. The M’s are talking about music, and before too long he finds himself explaining that if they’ve never listened to Idlewild, Frightened Rabbit, or Fatherson, then they can’t reasonably claim that Scottish music isn’t up to much these days.

"And what about There Will Be Fireworks? Twin Atlantic or Admiral Fallow? Tell me you've heard them, at least!"

"Oh, Merlin, don't get your knickers in a twist, I don't really know much about music. I'm a Radio 1 fan myself.” Merlin cringes as though she’s just sworn at him, but she ignores his reaction. “Now, if you're interested in a proper conversation about music, it's really my dear cousin you should talk to. I get all my recommendations from him."

"Arthur? I didn't know he particularly liked music." Admits Merlin, curiously. 

"He can get into trouble for unofficially endorsing people, so he has to keep it to himself." Morgana shrugs.

"But he'll bore you to death on the subject if he gets the chance." Morgause says smiling broadly.

Merlin makes a mental note to causally ask Arthur for playlist recommendations. Merlin loves his music, and it would be wonderful to think they have that in common. 

A knock on the door startles Merlin out of his distractions and he looks up, taking a bite out of a second sandwich. It's Arthur, of course (curse Merlin's blasted luck), and he's looking like some extremely fit sun god in a crimson hooded sweatshirt and jeans. Merlin swallows his sandwich without chewing and tries not to choke to death.

"Merlin! What are you doing here?" Arthur doesn’t sound disappointed, at least.

Merlin looks down at the afternoon tea trays and dainty tablecloth, then at the fine china teacup he's holding very carefully between his forefinger and his thumb. "I really have no idea." He admits. Arthur smiles at him and Merlin dies a little inside.

"Hello to you, too, beloved cousin, so nice of you to come calling." Morgana says witheringly, then she actually sticks her tongue out at him. He turns his smile on her and she does one of her lightening fast mood swings, “Come sit. Merlin is just extolling the virtues of various Scottish musicians." Morgana indicates the fourth chair at the table and, much to Merlin's chagrin, Arthur sits himself down and pours a cup of tea.

"You like music, then, Merlin?” Arthur asks.

"Aye. Well, we didn't have a telly except at the hotel where my Mum worked, and we wouldn't have had time to watch one in any case. Out on the farm, though, there's plenty of time for listening to music." Merlin doesn't back down from their curious glances.

"No television? But Gaius said you love Sherlock, how did you watch that without a television?" Morgause asks.

"Empty hotel room, usually, if there was one. Will and I, he's my best friend, we'd sneak a set of keys away as often as we could. Isa and Jack, they own the hotel, they hated it." Merlin laughs at the memory. "Although one time the room was occupied. It was this posh old English couple up for a Highland Fling, and we walked in on them...flinging."

"Oh gross!" Morgause says, hiding a giggle behind her hand, "What did you do?"

"Backed out as quietly as possible! We still argue about whether they saw us or not, actually, but I think that's a small price to pay for the permanent mental scarring!"

Everyone is laughing and Merlin begins to relax again. He reaches for another eclair.

"God, I can't imagine not having a television." Morgana says, pouring another cup of tea.

"I can.” Morgause shrugs, sipping her tea, “They had one at the orphanage, but the older kids got to choose the programming, and they always chose shite programs on purpose."

"No wonder you're so obsessed now!" Morgana says, reaching out to touch Morgause’s knee affectionately.

As the two of them exchange a soppy look, Merlin glances at Arthur to find him looking back at him. Arthur's gaze is incredibly intense. Merlin can feel himself flushing. Neither of them blink until Morgana speaks, and Merlin breaks away to look at her.

"Anyway, we're off topic. I was telling Merlin that you're fairly well-versed in contemporary Scottish music." Morgana says with a mischievous look in her eyes. "I think, actually, we should hold a competition. Both of you make a playlist and submit it to me by Friday. I'll listen to both and decide whose is better."

Arthur sits up higher in his seat like a bloodhound on the scent. Merlin laughs. 

"How many songs?"

Morgana hesitates then, "13."

“Any other parameters?” Arthur asks quickly, and it is obvious to Merlin that this isn’t his first time.

Morgana considers for a few moments then says, “No.”

"Done." Arthur says with a broad smile. 

Merlin looks back and forth between them then decides he really has no choice. "Fine. Friday, then." He says to Arthur, reaching out to shake his hand, wondering what he's gotten himself into.

Arthur shakes his hand (Merlin ignores the electric shock he feels when they touch), then smiles. "I will warn you, Emrys, I hate losing."

"I'll apologise in advance, then." Arthur turns his head to the side again, looking disbelieving. 

From the corner of his eye Merlin can see Morgana and Morgause exchanging a loaded look, which makes him even more worried. _When_ , Merlin wonders, _did my life become so ridiculous?_


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12 - In which Merlin comes up with a brilliant plan to aid Arthur's recovery and Arthur gets swept along.
> 
> No chapter specific tags, except maybe: ANGST

#  ** Chapter 12 **

Merlin feels inexplicably nervous standing outside Arthur's chambers waiting to knock on the door. Arthur probably isn't in, anyway. He should just knock and get it over with.

He stands for a few long moments, gathering his courage. What even is he doing here? Any attempts to force a friendship with Arthur are bound to fail. They have nothing in common. The sooner Merlin realises this the safer he'll be.

Still, it _is_ a good idea. 

So he stands a bit longer.

It's only Arthur, he tells himself.

_Aye, only Arthur of the stunningly gorgeous and perfect in every way persuasion._

_Only Arthur Pendragon the future King!_

Just knock!

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice sounds from down the corridor. Merlin almost jumps out of his skin. _Play it cool_ , he tells himself, trying to catch his breath.

"Arthur! Hi!" Merlin says, turning towards Arthur and smiling. Arthur is looking particularly casual in a pair of worn jeans and a faded blue jumper. He's just in socks again. _Socks!_ It absolutely slays Merlin. "I was just looking for you."

"Well, you found me. What can I do for you? Are you here for play list suggestions or to forfeit?" Arthur asks, confident, standing in front of Merlin with his hands loosely in his back pockets.

"Naw. It’s not to do with that. I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ve got that in the bag." Merlin says with a smile, and then he freezes, too nervous to continue. 

_It's a good idea_ , Merlin tells himself. _You've worked on this for ages. Just ask him. Just ask him!_

"But, I've been thinking about what you said," Merlin says, cursing the nervousness he can hear in his own voice. "About how you're tired of being cooped up. And I think I've got a solution for you."

"Oh, yeah?" Arthur's voice is incredibly low, and the way he raises his eyebrow makes Merlin's knees week.

"Aye." Merlin says, then stops again. 

Arthur looks around as though the solution is something tangible he can see and touch and that Merlin has just forgotten to bring it with him.

"The thing is, it requires a small amount of trust on your part." Merlin says, finally, almost choking on the words. There is a long pause.

"You're asking me to trust you?"

"Aye." Merlin can feel himself smiling; more relaxed now that he's said what he wanted to say. Arthur straightens up, and then makes a show of considering what Merlin has said, even going so far as to scratch his chin pensively.

"Well, I suppose you _did_ save my life." Arthur says, and when he smiles this time his entire body lights up. He is honestly the most attractive person Merlin has ever seen. Even his hair seems to glow as though lit by sunlight.

"Aye, I did."

"Alright." Arthur says, with a casual shrug "I'm in."

*

"Swimming?" Arthur asks, incredulous.

Merlin turns to him and his face falls. "Well, I thought it was a good idea."

"Swimming."

"Aye. It's a low-impact physical activity."

"It's eleven o'clock at night. And it's shut." Arthur indicates the obviously closed centre. He considers mentioning the perfectly functional swimming pool back at the Palace, but he can sense Merlin's excitement and decides against it.

"Not for us it isn't." Merlin smiles his crooked smile and that cements it. Arthur won't let that smile down. "You'd be surprised how many doors open for you when you name-drop the one and only heir to the throne."

"There's not going to be an article in the paper tomorrow headed _'Arthur's Secret Swim Affair'_ , is there?" 

"Aye, you wish!" Merlin laughs, then, when Arthur looks stunned he adds, "Naw. No one knows we're here except the manager of the centre, and I've warned him that the Tower of London doesn't have exercise equipment, so he's promised not to rat us out. Come on, let's go in."

"First, we don't keep prisoners in the Tower any more. Second, you are _really_ not authorised to make threats like that. Third, my father said I was on house arrest."

"I saved your life, remember?"

"What, so I can leave the Palace as long as I'm with you?"

"Apparently." Merlin says, sounding quite surprised about this himself.

"Alright." Arthur shrugs, following Merlin into the dark building.

Merlin leads Arthur up a few flights of stairs, then down a long corridor lit only by emergency lighting. The atmosphere is thrilling and Arthur can't help thinking they're going to get busted at any moment. It's different from when he goes to the Gallery, because then he's always trailed by a guard or five. Now, with just Merlin here, Arthur can imagine the two of them are here against the rules. It could almost be just the two of them in the whole world.  It's very exciting.

The changing rooms are similarly darkened and deserted, but there's a scarlet holdall sitting neatly on one of the benches, monogrammed with the letters HRH in gold. Beside him Merlin doubles up, laughing immoderately.

"I've got to give George some credit," Merlin says, still laughing, "He's very good at his job."

Arthur smiles awkwardly as Merlin closes himself into one of the private changing cubicles. There is a hollow sort of feeling in Arthur's stomach. So, George knows he's here with Merlin. Uther must know, too. Doubtless the place is surrounded by security guards. For some reason this makes Arthur feel sad. He can't pretend now that Merlin and he are out in the world, just the two of them, sharing this experience together in secret. Of course Arthur knows it can't ever be like that. Not with Merlin, not with anyone. It's too risky. Arthur grabs the scarlet bag and heads to his own cubicle. 

"I'll meet you out there." Merlin shouts and Arthur can hear his bare feet padding away along the tiled floor.

After he dresses Arthur spends a few long seconds examining his reflection in the mirror. Then he says a silent prayer to anyone who will listen that the sight of Merlin half naked doesn't give him a hard on the size of Blackpool Tower. Why is he so nervous? When he leaves his cubicle he heads the same way that Merlin went, and finds him standing at the bottom of a dimly lit set of stairs, holding up something plastic and white. Arthur deliberately does not look at Merlin and the acres of gloriously bare skin. 

"You've got to double-bag it, mate, to cover your wound." Merlin says, advancing on Arthur wothout warning and trying to wrestle not one, but TWO, white rubber swim-caps onto his head, "Doctor's orders."

"Christ, Emrys, would you stop?" Arthur commands, grabbing the caps away from Merlin. "I can do it myself." Arthur doesn't think about Merlin’s bare skin against his. He doesn't think about Merlin's fingers at the edges of his hair. He doesn't think about the clean smell of Merlin's neck. He doesn't think about how smooth Merlin's skin looked. He doesn't think about the low, rumbling laugh that vibrated through Merlin when his chest was pressed against Arthur's arm.

Except that is all Arthur can think about, actually.

"Both of them." Merlin commands, very serious, backing away from Arthur and smiling like nothing at all of any importance had happened; and maybe to Merlin it hadn't.

"Alright." Arthur says, with bad grace. Merlin then smiles at him briefly and heads up the stairs two at a time. Arthur follows him slowly, definitely not thinking about Merln, and feeling like a top class idiot with the swim caps on, but making sure all of his hair is tucked away just the same. Doctors orders.

As he reaches the top of the stairs he can't help the gasp that escapes his mouth. 

"Merlin, this is incredible." Arthur says, honestly, stepping closer to the wall to take in the view. He looks over and Merlin is standing in shadow, arms crossed tightly across his chest, looking incredibly nervous. 

"Do you like it?" Merlin asks, biting his lip.

A rooftop swimming pool in the heart of London? Of course Arthur likes it. He looks back out at the view and then up through the massive glass ceiling into the night sky. The lights of the city drown out most of the stars, but the view is still remarkable.

He stands a long while there by the wall, looking out into the dark, dark brightness of his city. He can see Buckingham Palace and the graceful lines of Big Ben, he can see the Eye and a million lights reflecting off the rolling waters of his river. His gaze is drawn to the curious dark spaces of dense greenery which look almost black in the night, and he strains to pick out details. His eyes caress his city with a lingering, loving touch, and he hardly wants to look away. 

An audible breath alerts him to Merlin's presence at his side and Arthur looks over, his eyes still wide with wonder.

"It's perfect." Arthur says, drinking in the sight of Merlin back-lit by the blue glow of the swimming pool. Merlin, obviously now convinced he's done well, relaxes, smiles broadly at Arthur and then turns and takes a running leap into the swimming pool, making an almighty crash in the silence.

Arthur looks out over his city one final time, picking out his favourite landmarks, then walks to the steps of the pool. He takes it very slowly, his head is throbbing slightly and the caps are tight over his healing wound, but he has to admit that this swimming thing is a very good idea. His whole body is tensed for movement. He lowers himself gently into the water and then begins, carefully, to swim. Merlin is gambolling about the pool like an otter, but Arthur sticks to his chosen lane, swimming up and down in an orderly fashion and trying not to submerge his head.

It feels so good to move. Arthur glories in the stretch and release of his muscles, feeling tension ease out of his body with each stroke. This was a brilliant idea. He's surprised he didn't come up with it himself, actually, though he tends to forget there's a pool at the Palace.

As he swims Arthur thinks about Merlin's plans for tonight, about all the effort it must have taken him, and he can't help the swell of emotion he feels. He can't remember the last time anyone made such an effort just for him. A rooftop swimming pool at midnight? It's just so romantic, Arthur thinks, laughing at himself. Merlin is still behaving like a puppy let off his lead at the beach, frolicking around like a complete idiot. Thoughtful he may be, but romantic? No, that's just Arthur's wishful thinking. 

Arthur tires quickly, and after a few dozen laps he's absolutely exhausted, so he clings to the edge of the pool, resting his head against the side, looking up through the ceiling into the sky.

Merlin suddenly pops out of the water next to him. His hair is slicked down, his eyelashes clumped together, and rivulets of water are pooling in the hollow of his collarbones. He shakes his head violently, sending water in every direction then runs his hands roughly through his hair causing it to stand wildly.

"Y'alright?" He asks. His face is far too close to Arthur.

"Tired." Arthur admits, watching a bead of water slide over Merlin's bottom lip.

"Do you want to go?" The water droplet merges with another right in the centre of Merlin's bottom lip and they fall together to the surface of the pool. 

"No." Arthur says, his voice quiet. 

_I want to kiss you._

_I want to lick the water off your eyelashes and suck the droplets from your ears._

_I want to sink my fists into your soaking hair and hear you say my name._

"Arthur?" Merlin asks, sounding worried. His tongue captures another drop of water from his lip and Arthur is utterly captivated. "You know, I think we had better go. You look totally dazed."

"I'm fine, really. Honestly." Merlin doesn't look like he believes a word of it. "Tell you what, I'll go sit on the steps for a minute, you swim."

"Are you sure?” Merlin asks, and he smiles when Arthur nods, “I can't have you dying on my watch, not now that your father's so fond of me."

*

Merlin swims away again, leaving Arthur to make his way slowly to the steps. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea - Arthur looks like he might pass out. Merlin watches him carefully for a few minutes, but once he is sure Arthur isn't going to drown, he relaxes a bit and starts to swim again in earnest. 

His reasons for coming here were only half selfless. He loves to swim. He loves the feel of the water. The freedom. He's always loved water, ever since he was a child and he discovered he could enact whole oceanic stories in his bath just by concentrating and waving his hands. His mother had always complained about the flooding. 

After a while he returns to Arthur's side and hoists himself up to sit on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water. 

"You swim very well."

Merlin shrugs. "I grew up on the Loch. If you didn't learn to swim, you drowned."

Arthur says nothing. He is staring, wide-eyed at Merlin. Merlin looks down at himself. He has a few purple bruises on his chest from where he’d collided with Arthur’s rather substantial body on the night of the accident. He'd been sure Arthur had spotted the bruises earlier, but maybe his attempts to hide them had worked, or it had been too dark.

Merlin cues up the off-hand statements he has prepared about the bruises, but Arthur’s gaze is focused more on the frayed hem of Merlin’s ancient swimming shorts. Merlin has had them since he was thirteen and his mother had almost taken him on holiday. _Almost._ Maybe Arthur is offended by the rattiness of his attire? He’s probably never had anything in his possession that is so well-worn. 

As Merlin watches Arthur watching him, as though Arthur's gaze is a touch upon his skin, the memory of lying on top of Arthur crashes over Merlin. He had liked that feeling very much. But...

Arthur still won't look at his face. 

With a wave of sadness that propels him to stand from the edge of the pool and turn his back on Arthur, Merlin realises again that all of his efforts to befriend Arthur are surely doomed to fail. Arthur must be fulfilling what he considers to be a duty to Merlin as Merlin has saved his life. If there hadn't been an accident they probably would never have spoken again. And with that, Merlin is suddenly embarrassed by the idiocy of the entire evening. He has tried very hard tonight to give Arthur something special, something unique, but Arthur is probably used to people going the extra mile, used to people doing extravagant things for him just because. With a feeling of absolute certainty Merlin decides the entire night is a complete disaster and he wants nothing more than to be away from Arthur’s company. 

He towels his hair dry and throws a towel over towards Arthur.

Arthur. Who has removed his swimming caps and whose hair is tousled perfectly and seems to glow even in the darkness.

Arthur. Who is so beautiful it breaks Merlin’s heart.

Arthur. Who is gazing over the London skyline as though looking at a beloved friend. 

Swallowing his sick feeling of inadequacy, and feeling rather like he’s diving in without knowing how deep the water is, Merlin decides that, even if he _is_ wasting his time it’s entirely worth it. Every second that he gets to spend with Arthur is a treasure.

Who cares if he gets hurt?

Merlin closes his eyes, mentally prepares for the leap he’s about to take, and then fixes a smile on and launches himself into the proverbial deep end.

"I'd better get you back.” Merlin says, hearing the emotion in his own voice, “I don't want you turning into a pumpkin."

"Cinderella doesn't turn into a pumpkin you idiot, her carriage does." Arthur says as they walk back down the stairs towards the changing rooms.

"Big Disney fan?" Merlin asks, feeling himself beginning to laugh despite himself.

"I much prefer the original tales, actually, they're so much more..."

"Oh, listen to you Mr 'I liked Cinderella before she was mainstream'!" Merlin giggles, affecting the poshest English accent he's capable of.

"Well they're just more realistic in the original..."

"You can't fool me. I bet you've got the lot on Blue Ray." Merlin continues mercilessly. Arthur has stopped walking and Merlin turns to him.

"Look, all I'm saying is..."

"You probably know all the songs off by heart."

"... they're more real, is what I mean..."

"' _A dream is a wish your heart makes_.'" Merlin sings, dancing about and even performing a rather graceless, and totally insane, pirouette.

Arthur finally gives up on explaining himself and throws his hands in the air in frustration, his two swimming caps flapping idiotically in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Merlin says, forcing seriousness, "Tell me about the original stories."

Arthur walks past him, shaking his head, still frustrated and annoyed. Merlin takes a second to watch the muscles tense in Arthur's bare shoulders. Watch the ripple of muscles as Arthur lifts his arm again. He lets his greedy eyes take in the full, glorious vision before him, from impossibly broad shoulders to deliciously slim waist. He imagines running his hands over Arthur's back, gripping hard enough to bruise. He wonders how it would feel to dip his tongue into the dimples at Arthur's lower back...

He shakes his head then rushes in front of Arthur, stopping him in the doorway to the changing rooms. 

"Look, I'm sorry," Merlin says, holding his hands up in surrender. "Please, go on. Tell me about how the stepsisters cut up their feet to try to get the slipper on."

"You know that?" Arthur sounds genuinely surprised. Merlin shrugs.

"My Mum was a big fan."

Now Arthur is just staring at him and Merlin shudders slightly. There is something about the way Arthur looks at him that makes Merlin feel completely hollowed out.

Arthur's eyes travel down to Merlin's exposed chest and linger on the fading bruises. Merlin resists the urge to try to cover himself. Standing next to the incredibly well-muscled Arthur, Merlin feels like a scrawny schoolboy. 

"Is that? Are those?" Arthur stumbles over his words, "Did I do that?"

"Well, technically I did it when I ran into you. You're quite a substantial mass." Merlin jokes, desperate to bring laughter back to their conversation. 

The Crown Prince simply looks dumbfounded. And not a little bit insulted. 

"A substantial mass?" Arthur asks, Merlin feels his cheeks colour. "Are you calling me fat?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13 - In which Arthur dreads the repercussions of his late night excursion and Merlin learns more about his destiny.
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

#  **Chapter 13**

"Arthur, wake up!"

Arthur comes to an immediate, panicked state of alertness. He had been expecting this ever since he and Merlin had returned to the Palace after one in the morning. Despite Merlin's assurance that no outsiders knew about their late night swim, Arthur still expects the papers to include some scandalous headline. He faces his cousin with some trepidation, noticing that her hair is uncharacteristically messy and her face unusually pale. His heart plummets. 

"Oh Christ. What is it?" Arthur sits up a bit straighter, rubbing his eyes. 

"You have to help me, this _thing_ is broken!" Morgana holds out her mobile phone, her hand trembling slightly. Arthur resists the urge to laugh out loud, but only just. Her phone! Which means that there isn't any gossip story this morning. If there were, Morgana would know about it. Arthur feels incredibly relieved.

"What have you done now?" He asks, taking the phone off her to investigate. His cousin is a renowned technophobe, a quality Arthur finds extremely endearing, and something she most likely inherited from their time spent with Gaius growing up.

As Arthur fiddles with her smartphone, he catches only snippets of her rambling. "And, of course, Gwen would have sorted it, but she's on holiday. Why do we have to let them take holidays, anyway?" Morgana pouts, leaning in towards one of Arthur's mirrors, trying to make her hair lie flat.

"Because they're human beings? And because you're a big softie, really." Arthur says, handing her phone back to her. Morgana has now flopped herself down onto Arthur's bed, looking utterly miserable. 

"You are a very capable woman, Morgana, surely you can dress yourself and do your own hair and makeup?"

"Of course l can," she mumbles, "but that's not the point, that's not why I miss her... Oh, You wouldn't understand, you've never had a Gwen."

She's right enough there. Arthur has always refused to employ a manservant, preferring instead to wash and dress himself.

"It's the _companionship_ l miss." she continues, "The having someone to talk to bit."

Arthur gets up from his bed. Behind him Morgana snuggles herself under his warm covers. Neither of them speak for a few minutes as Arthur changes clothes in his dressing room. When he returns, Morgana is on her phone, either texting or on one of her social media accounts.

"So, after all of this talking, how much do you know about Gwen?" He asks, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Let's see. Older brother. Mother died years ago. Father is a blacksmith. She's from a modest background. Grew up in Kent, I think. She had a long-term boyfriend back home for years, but they split up a few months ago. She was devastated. There was another woman, apparently. She was Ms. Mopeypants until a while ago. She hasn't said much, but I think she may be seeing someone new. Secretly."

Morgana says all of this without pause, as though reciting something she's been made to memorise. Arthur, of course, is pretty sure he knows who Gwen is _secretly_ seeing, although exactly why it's a secret, he doesn't quite understand. If he were lucky enough to be romantically involved with Merlin, he'd be shouting it from the roof of the Palace. He laughs a little at the idea of what his father would have to say about that - not only consorting with the staff, but publicly shagging them.

Then he spends a glorious five seconds imagining what it would be like to shag Merlin _in_ public, but stops himself abruptly because Morgana is watching him closely.

Morgana, who has always been more perceptive than is good for her, sits up straighter, and looks at Arthur with narrowed eyes. 

"Why are you asking, anyway? You're not interested in her, I know that, so for whom are you asking? Wait, _are_ you interested in her? She's a she..." Morgana asks, her face scrunched up in confusion.

"No. NO. Not her." Arthur says. Then he decides that he's really, really not ready to talk to Morgana about Merlin. "Look, Morgana, you know me. You know I tell you everything. If there was anything to tell, you'd already know.” 

"Arthur? Is there someone you fancy?" Her eyes are alight with a mixture of happiness and mischief. 

"No.”

“Do you have a Morgause?” Morgana asks, the mischievous glint in her eye definitely increasing. 

“No! It's just... _I'm_ just..." Arthur has apparently lost the ability to speak, and gives up, shaking his head.

Morgana stares at him, and unfortunately for Arthur she looks like she might know exactly what Arthur isn’t saying. He half expects her to blurt out Merlin’s name, and he cringes away from her in anticipation. She doesn’t, however, give voice to her suspicions. "Ok. Well, you know where to find me when you do feel like talking." 

She kisses his cheek, pats his arm and stands up. “Oh, how’s it going with the playlist?” 

“Don’t ask.” Arthur says, shaking his head again. This is getting too close to the real subject matter and Arthur can’t, he just can’t talk about it.

“OK.” Morgana shrugs, then, “Thanks for fixing my phone. What was wrong with it, anyway?" She asks, turning back, halfway out the door. 

"Oh." Arthur laughs, looking up, "It was on airplane mode."

*

Merlin stands outside Arthur's door feeling incredibly nervous. Again. Why does he do this to himself? He's listening as hard as he can to hear sounds of movement within. It is early, after all. 

_Just knock!_

_What if he's busy? What if he's sleeping?_

_What if he's not alone?_

Merlin almost turns away, too much of a chicken to knock on a door, then he remembers the previous evening and figures that it doesn't matter if Arthur is in there with an entire harem, some wood nymphs, and a eunuch. Merlin has vowed to pursue a friendship with the Prince regardless of how many times he gets his heart broken. So he knocks once, loudly so as not to come across as nervous. After a few very long moments he hears the sound of someone stirring within. 

At the very last second he almost turns and runs away.

"Merlin?" Arthur is fully dressed, thank heavens, which means he's probably neither just woken nor entertaining a harem. "Didn't I just see you?"

"Oh. I suppose you did, aye. Sleep well?"

"Surprisingly. What can I do for you?"

"I know you've been missing your morning runs, so I thought you might be missing this as well." Merlin holds up the coffee and Arthur's whole face lights up in a smile.

"The Dawn Treader!" Arthur takes the coffee and inhales deeply before taking a long swallow. Merlin watches the tilt of Arthur's head and the movement of his neck muscles until he either has to look away or risk coming in his trousers in the corridor. He surreptitiously adjusts his leather shoulder bag to cover himself and prays his erection will subside quickly so he doesn't have to walk away limping. 

"John asked after you." Merlin says as breezily as possible. "I told him you were fine and rather enjoying being an invalid. He made a funny joke about how you might be the future king but that doesn't stop you being a drama queen as well."

Arthur stops smiling immediately and looks at Merlin with an expression that clearly saysn _'tell me that's not true!'_.

Merlin only smiles back at him and, when he's sure he has Arthur's full attention, he winks. 

"I've got to go." Merlin bows his head slightly. "Your Highness." He turns his back on Arthur and walks away without limping. He turns back a few paces later and smiles. "Enjoy the coffee. I know you're watching your figure, so I asked John to make yours with non-fat milk."

He can hear Arthur cursing him down the corridor. 

*

After Merlin's surprise coffee delivery Arthur regrets more than ever that he has no one (NO ONE) with whom he can discuss his obsession. Sure, Morgana would understand in a derisive sort of way. Lance and Leon would be good about it, but disinterested. Gwaine would just tell him to get his end off and forget about it. There is no question of mentioning it to Percy. It’s not that Percy wouldn’t understand, it’s just that there’s no way Percy would understand. 

But didn't Merlin's actions at least prove that he liked Arthur? Not necessarily in the same _I want to kiss every inch of your body_ kind of way that Arthur likes him, but a type of like in any case. And shouldn't that be good enough, really? Being friends with Merlin, getting to make him laugh and getting to see him smile, that really ought to be enough. 

So why isn't it? 

Arthur spends the rest of the morning sulking around his bedroom, trying not to spend too much time fantasising. For the most part he fails completely. He only stops himself going to find Merlin by reminding himself that the boy is unattainable. It's a strange feeling for Arthur, who has always gotten anyone he has ever gone for. 

Then he has to remind himself that he hasn't actually made a move on Merlin, after which he spends about an hour damning his moral principles to the fiery depths of hell.

No matter how many ways he tries to make it work out in his head, he knows it can't. Cheating is never okay, and stealing someone else's boyfriend is not acceptable behaviour. Not for him.

He would normally rally the boys round for some rugby, but it's term time and anyway he's still not very well. Just before noon he gives up, caves to his desires, and heads to Gaius's office just to see if Merlin is in. 

"Good afternoon, sire, feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you." Gaius is sitting behind a computer, of all things, squinting at the monitor and trying to figure out how the mouse works. Arthur manages somehow not to laugh. He’s never seen Gaius with a computer before, and he knows it’s Merlin’s influence that has made this unlikely scene a reality.

"How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Merlin. Is he around?" 

"He’s in Oxford today.” Gaius says, looking up from the screen and shaking the mouse in front of his face. At least in this distracted state he won’t question Arthur as to why he’s trying to get in touch with Merlin in the first place.

“Have you any way of contacting him?” Arthur asks, thinking _Oxford, why Oxford? What’s he doing in Oxford?_

Gaius finally abandons his attempts to corral the computer mouse, although he looks like he might chuck it across the room. 

“Here is his mobile number, but his phone isn’t working.” After searching his entire desk for a pen, Gaius jots a number down on a piece of scrap paper and hands it across to Arthur. 

“His phone isn’t working?”

Gaius shakes his head. “It’s very old.”

Arthur wants to laugh at the idea of Gaius, of all people, thinking someone’s phone is old. Although, from the glimpse Arthur had gotten of Merlin’s phone in the corridor last week, it really was ancient.

“Well, thank you anyway.” 

“Are you sure there isn’t anything I could do for you?”

“Not at the moment, no. Thank you.” Arthur turns to leave, but at the extreme exhalation from Gaius, he turns back. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” Arthur asks, smiling at the old man.

Gaius throws his hands up in the air. “I never asked for this blasted machine! I don’t need it and I don’t want to use it.”

Arthur walks back into the room and joins Gaius on his side of the desk, laughing. He helps Gaius get back on to the computer, showing him how the mouse works (it has to be plugged in, Gaius), feeling very fond of the older man and grateful for the time he can spend helping him. It brings back the closeness of Arthur’s younger years. He definitely has to thank Merlin for this.

*

“And this,” The professor says, turning the fragile page with white-gloved hands, “is the only first-hand account we have of a Dragon Lord ascension ceremony. It dates back 1,700 years and takes place here in England at the beginning of the most magical age in our history.”

Merlin leans in as close as he dares, holding his breath. The text is illegible, but the illustrations are phenomenally detailed.

“The Dragon Lord, here,” He points to one of the crowned figures, “Ascended to his throne beside the King,” He points to the second figure, “and together they ruled over a peaceful kingdom until the end of their days.”

“That’s incredible.” Merlin says, standing again and looking at the professor. There is an eager glint in the professor’s eye, and he seems pleased to be sharing this information with Merlin. He’d been very excited to meet Merlin and had asked Merlin to call him Geoffrey, but it seemed too informal for someone who spends all of his days surrounded by books, so Merlin can only think of him as Professor. “Is there any information as to how that partnership came about?”

“As far as we can tell, the previous King had banished magic out of fear, however the Dragon Lord sought out the King’s son, and they formed a partnership in their youth. If you look here,” He turns back a few pages, and shows Merlin a scene depicting the Dragon Lord standing before an actual dragon, “It explains that the Dragon Lord was called by his destiny to find and ally himself with the King’s son. And, after they both ascended to the throne,” He turns forward quite a few pages to show another illustration, “they worked together to bring magic back out of the shadows. It was a very wise move, allying himself with the Dragon Lord, as their rule could not be questioned, not when they were both so powerful.”

In the back of Merlin’s mind he sees Arthur’s smiling face from earlier this morning, but closes the door on those thoughts. Now is not the time.

“So, their reign lasted…”

“There are no exact dates, however legend says they reigned for almost a hundred years.”

“That’s impossible.” Merlin says. Life spans of that day were certainly not in the triple digits.

“That’s _magic_.” The professor replies, again with that glint in his eye. He closes the cover of the large book and places it back inside it’s sealed, climate controlled drawer. Merlin wants to sit and look through every single page of that volume, but he knows he doesn’t have the time. He had lied to Gaius about the purpose of this trip to Oxford, and he still needs to fulfill Gaius’s tasks before he can return to London.

“Thank you for showing me this. It makes a change from all of the other research I’ve done on the subject, anyway.”

“Beheadings?” The professor asks, removing his gloves and placing them in a sealed container at the exit of the room. Merlin copies him.

“Aye. Countless.” Merlin doesn’t laugh when the professor does.

“Well, they’re beings of pure, elemental magic, so they attract trouble. I can show you a lot of information on _that_ aspect of Dragon Lord history if you’re interested.”

“Maybe another time. Thank you very much for your assistance today.”  Merlin reaches out to shake the man’s hand.

“I’m just glad there’s someone here studying at Oxford who is interested in this particular subject. Mostly I get pestered by undergraduates who think that because I study magic I have magic and they really want me to vanish their spots so they can go on dates. Do people assume you have magic as well?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly made my line of study public knowledge.” Merlin lies easily. He had known he would have to lie through his teeth to get the information he needs.

“Good. Don’t.” The professor laughs again. “It was nice meeting you, Gwaine, please be in touch if you need anything further.”

Merlin shakes his hand, not blinking an eye. He had had to borrow Gwaine’s student ID to gain access to the library, which meant he had also had to lie about who he was.

“I’ve your number, you’ll hear from me.”

Merlin says his farewells, then follows the professor’s directions to exit the library building. He quickly locates the books Gaius had asked for and scans the pages he needs. It takes less than fifteen minutes. 

On his way back to the train station Merlin slips Gwaine’s ID badge through his and Leon’s letterbox along with a thank you note hastily drawn on the back of a flier he’d taken off a noticeboard.

Once he is seated on the train Merlin pulls out his sketch book and pencils and settles down to draw the scene of the Dragon Lord ascension before the details slip from his mind. If the King’s face looks somewhat like Arthur’s, it’s no fault of Merlin’s at all.

*

In the end Arthur decides against texting Merlin, though he does make a call to George to acquire a new phone for him. He puts it through his own expenses but asks George to ensure his privacy. It’s the upgraded accommodation all over again, but it’s George’s job not to ask questions. 

Now that Arthur has Merlin’s number he must be able to get in touch with him, and Merlin will need a working phone for that. Besides, Merlin would probably like a new phone anyway. _If you have to talk yourself into it_ , Arthur tells himself, _maybe it’s not a great idea..._

Of course, if Arthur had his way, he’d be taking Merlin out into London to choose and buy the phone with him. He imagines Merlin’s face when he sees all the newest tech and how many GB storage he could have for music. Merlin would try to talk Arthur into getting him the cheapest phone going, and would pretend to be embarrassed when Arthur buys him the most expensive one in the shop, but would be secretly pleased. Then, when they get home Merlin would show Arthur just how grateful he is.

After Arthur's third shower of the day (because of his second wank), he decides perhaps he does need a diversion after all. He spends some time working on the playlist for Morgana. It takes him longer than expected because he's determined to win. Not knowing anything about the type of songs Merlin might choose makes the task even more difficult. After he spends over ten minutes deciding which Belle & Sebastian song to include, he decides he needs to leave it for the time being.

Looking around his room, he spots his tablet computer on his bedside table and decides to read the book that Merlin had mentioned at the hospital. He grabs the duvet from his bed and settles into his favourite armchair by the fireside.

Once he finishes the first chapter, he knows he's chosen poorly. A novel about a Scot who travels to London for a job is hardly good material for a diversion, but by the end of the second chapter he's so engrossed in the story, he notices not.

*

"Arthur?" Merlin's voice is high, surprised. Arthur does not wait for an invitation, but pushes past Merlin into the room beyond. 

"This is a book about YOU." Arthur says, turning back to look at Merlin, who is still standing by the open door.

" _Hello Merlin, sorry to disturb you at this late hour. l hope I haven't woken you_. Not at all Your Highness, not at all. It's not like l have _work_ in the morning!" Merlin does his posh English accent again and Arthur wants to kiss his stupid, sarcastic face.

"You don't." Arthur says simply. "My father gave you a week off for saving my life, remember?"

"Your father may have, but Gaius hasn't. Remember?" Merlin sounds genuinely annoyed. Arthur takes a closer look - Merlin has a slightly thrown-together look about him. His face is flushed, his shirt is inside out and his hair is dishevelled.

It looks as though Arthur has interrupted him in the middle of something, but he certainly hasn't been sleeping. He can’t be _with someone_ because Gwen isn’t here, but it looks as though he may as well have been. Arthur listens intently but hears no sounds from Merlin's room. Suddenly Arthur's mind is flooded with images of what Merlin might have been doing alone in his bedroom that would make him look this red-faced and dishevelled.

"I didn't think of that." Arthur admits, awkwardly, his voice coming out low and full of raw lust. He clears his throat. "I'll talk to Gaius for you. He'll understand."

Merlin looks at Arthur very intently for a long moment then shakes his head and gestures to one of the chairs. Arthur sits. 

"What book?" Merlin asks, sitting down opposite Arthur. 

" Neverwhere ." Arthur replies.

"What do you mean, 'it's about me'?" Merlin asks, still sounding rather annoyed. 

"You're Richard Mayhew." Arthur waits for Merlin to respond, but he says nothing, so Arthur continues, "Young Scottish man comes to London, et cetera."

"Aye, sounds just like me. Except for the whole London Below thing, it's completely my life." The sarcasm is strong enough burn.

Arthur stops to listen again, convinced that Gwen is here somewhere, that perhaps they were together, but the suite is silent, the second bedroom unoccupied. Feeling distinctly wrong-footed, Arthur draws breath to apologise for interrupting whatever it was Merlin had been doing, but Merlin has launched into a speech about how different he is from the main character of the novel, so Arthur doesn’t get a chance. 

Arthur only catches snippets. Instead of listening to Merlin, Arthur watches him. Focusing on the way his jaw muscles tighten and release. Watching him run his long fingers through that messy hair. Watching as, in the heat of his argument, he reaches up and pulls hard on his left earlobe.

Arthur wants to take that earlobe into his mouth and bite it. He wants to run his teeth along that jawbone. He wants to kiss the arguments right out of Merlin’s mouth. Arthur shakes his head of those distractions and returns to the conversation. 

"And I've never, ever in my entire life, spoken to a rat." Merlin finishes.

"Well, I guess that settles it, then. Obviously you have nothing in common with Mr. Mayhew. I got it wrong. I apologise." Arthur casts around for an insulting word to call himself... "I'm an idiot. I'm a prat. I'm a complete and utter clotpole."

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Merlin dissolves into giggles and Arthur's heart explodes.

He knows the boy is unattainable. He knows he can't ever have him. He knows there is not even the slightest whisper of hope. 

He also knows that he is hopelessly and utterly lost.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14 in which Arthur becomes more curious about Merlin and regrets it immediately, and Merlin finds himself in another inexplicable situation. 
> 
> No chapter specific tags except, perhaps: #angst #seriousangst #hahaha #angstangstangst #sorrynotsorry

#  **Chapter 14**

 

[text conversation between Merlin and Gwen:  
 **Merlin:** Arthur came to see me last night. He actually came to see me. In our room!  
 **Gwen:** OMG! What did he want?  
 **Merlin:** To talk about "Neverwhere".  
 **Gwen:** HE READ IT?  
 **Merlin:** Yesterday, yeah. Said I was RM.  
 **Gwen:** Lol, that's what I said!  
 **Merlin:** He. Came. To. Our. Room. To. See. ME.  
 **Gwen:** Oh. I don't think you should think like that...  
 **Merlin:** Like What?  
 **Gwen:** In sentences filled with full stops.  
 **Merlin:** I know, but I can't help myself. He's so ... you know.  
 **Gwen:** Yes, I do know. I do. Remember, though, he's your employer.  
 **Merlin:** When are you back? I feel like I need to get pished.  
 **Gwen:** Day after next. Stay strong. And sober!  
 **Merlin:** I promise nothing.]  


"Here's my playlist." Arthur says, sitting down across the breakfast table from Morgana and handing over the small mp3 player he'd arranged for her. While she picks it up and scrolls through the songs, Arthur helps himself to coffee, orange juice, and brown toast.

Morgana laughs lightly a few times, probably at the predictability of his choices, but Arthur doesn't get too concerned. It's only when she starts giggling uncontrollably that he starts to worry.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just," she takes a break from talking to giggle some more, then continues, "It's the same."

"The same? The same as what?" Arthur asks around a mouthful of toast.

"Merlin's list."

"You have his already? It's 8 o'clock in the morning." 

"He slipped it under my door a few days ago." Morgana says with a shrug.

"He finished before me?" Arthur says in disbelief. How is that even possible? Surely if Merlin had finished so long ago  _someone_ would have told him?

"Well, yeah, but, his is only jotted down on a bit of paper." Morgana says, slipping it out of her pocket and brandishing it in Arthur's general direction.

"I can't believe he finished before me. Let me see that."

"Oh no. I need to pronounce my judgement first, Arthur, that's only fair."

"But you said they were the same."

"Similar, I mean, and stop pouting at me, you'll get to see it after I've listened to them both."

Arthur sits back in his chair. "I'm not pouting."

"Of course you're not. Now, I'll text you both when I'm ready to announce a winner. We'll have tea."

Text. That means Morgana has his number as well. Had she also asked Gaius or did Merlin give it to her himself? Are they friends on Facebook? Does Merlin have a Twitter? Why hasn't Arthur thought of this before? Nothing else in the world seems as important as finding out.

"Speaking of texting, how is your phone holding up in Gwen's absence? Any more emergencies?"

"No." Morgana replies, sticking her tongue out at him. "Although, there is something wrong with Facebook, actually. Do you think you could check it out?"

"Morgana, I don't know why you even bother with Facebook if you don't know how to use it properly." Arthur says as he takes the phone off her. He keys into her Facebook and looks through her friends list. His heart leaps as he spots Merlin and Gwen together in a profile picture, but it’s Gwen’s account, not Merlin’s. He keeps scrolling until he sees the same profile picture again heading up the contact Gandalf the White. Gandalf the White?

Arthur hands the phone back to Morgana, trying very hard not to show his disappointment. They have the same profile picture. That means something serious, doesn’t it?

"How did you do that?” She asks, pouting now herself.

"You'd signed out, that's all."

Arthur rises from the table and kisses Morgana's head as he leaves the breakfast room. As soon as he's in the hallway he opens his own Facebook and searches for Gandalf the White. It’s no wonder Arthur hadn't found him by searching his real name. Why would someone like Merlin need a pseudonym, though? Who on Earth could he possibly be hiding from?

Unfortunately, Merlin's security features are set quite high. All Arthur can see as he scrolls are profile and cover pictures and each one he sees makes him feel worse.

_Merlin and Gwen._

_Merlin and Gwen._

_Merlin and Gwen._

_Merlin and Gwen._

He has to scroll back ten updates to find one that's just Merlin and it's dated six months ago. As Arthur scrolls back to the pictures of Gwen he actually begins to hate the sight of her face. Which is unfair because she’s lovely. But then Arthur sees Merlin smiling beside her and he can't like her. He just can't.

He doesn't send Merlin a friend request.

He looks at the clock. 08.27. Too early to get plastered, even if it is the weekend. He takes his phone out and dials a number.

"Morning Gwaine. Is someone there with you? More than one someone, right. Glad to see you're keeping it classy, G. No, no, nothing important, just bored out my skull and needing a rescue. OK, well, no rush, just come when you can."

Arthur makes more phone calls and a few hours after that he's ensconced in his room with his best friends playing video games and trying hard not to think about Merlin.

It's not really working, but he's trying his best.

*

After he sends the texts to Gwen, Merlin tries to calm himself down. He's dangerously giddy and every step he takes through his rooms is like a tumble on a bouncy castle. He even accidentally makes it rain flower petals for a few terrifying seconds before he controls himself, sweeping them away into the rubbish bin with a terribly guilty smile on his face. No matter what Gwen says, Arthur had  _come to see him_ and that had to mean  _something_ , right? Merlin sits himself down on the side of his bed and spends a few long minutes looking into his mother's eyes. He wishes she were here with him, and not only because he's lonely without her - not this time - this time he seriously needs her advice.... If she were here she would tell him what to do. She'd laugh at him for a long, long time, her eyes crinkled at the corners, moisture on her eyelashes, and then she would tell him what to do.

Instead of letting himself sink into darkness, as he is wont to do when he gazes at his mother's portrait, Merlin heads for the shower and spends an inordinate amount of time beneath the hot water. Possibly the one thing he doesn't miss about Ealdor is the poor water pressure. After his shower Merlin attempts to contact Will for what feels like the millionth time. He's not angry at Will for not responding, he remembers what harvest time is like in Ealdor - trying to beat the ever present rain and get all the hay into the barns before winter sets in - he just misses his best friend. 

After all of that Merlin decides the only thing for it is a session with his pencils. He'll empty his buzzing mind out onto the blank pages and find peace. He struggles to find a blank page having nearly filled his new sketchpad. Unsurprisingly the drawings of his mother that he has drawn with obsessive precision over the last few months have suddenly been eclipsed by drawings of Arthur. Arthur standing in Gaius's room as he had been the night Merlin had first seen him. Arthur laughing at something Merlin had said. The shape of his lips and the shadows on his face at the side of the swimming pool. The dreamy, faraway look in Arthur's eyes the night of the accident when he had told Merlin he was beautiful.  There are pages devoted to Arthur's hands which Merlin, despite careful study, still hasn't managed to get precisely correct. There's something almost wistful about them, which is a difficult emotion to portray when drawing fingers.

In order to retain his sanity Merlin abandons his drawings just before nine and heads out to see if Gaius has any work for him. He pops into the canteen on his way to get himself a coffee and decides to bring Gaius a cup of tea as well.

“Good morning, Gaius.” Merlin says, entering the office. Gaius is swearing loudly at his new laptop computer. Merlin fights back a laugh.

“This damned thing!” Gaius curses, closing the lid of the laptop and covering it over with a sheaf of disorganised papers as though trying to hide it from sight. Merlin brings Gaius his tea and sits into the chair opposite him at the desk.

“Still can’t figure it out, eh?” Merlin says, smiling. Gaius glares at him then accepts his tea with bad grace.

“You’ve had a delivery.” Gaius mutters, cringing around the heat of the tea.

“A delivery?” Merlin looks over at his small desk. There’s a white box sitting on top of his things. It’s obviously a new phone. “What is this?”

“New phone.”

“I can see that. Why?”

Gaius tilts his head and regards Merlin with a very disbelieving stare, which Merlin deserves.

“I know I need a new phone, Gaius, it’s just that I’m perfectly capable of buying myself one.” Even though Merlin wants to rip into the box and examine his beautiful new phone immediately, he can’t help feeling wounded. Does Gaius not believe that he can take care of himself? Merlin wanders to the desk and picks up the paperwork which has come with his delivery.

“What you do with your own time is your business, Merlin. _This_ is a work phone. For work.”

“But you’ve transferred my number?” Merlin says, holding up the paperwork which proves this.

“Still a work phone.”

“A _work_ phone.” Merlin repeats, as though he’s never heard of such a thing. “I suppose that’s OK.”

“Good.” Gaius says. Merlin picks up the box on his desk and caresses it gently. “Now before I lose you to updates and apps and syncing, how was Oxford?” For someone who doesn’t understand how attachments and files work, Gaius sure knows a lot of tech jargon.

“Good, aye. It took me a long time to find what you wanted,” Merlin lies, “but I think I got everything" Merlin opens up Gaius’s laptop, finds the e-mail and opens the attachment. He shows Gaius how to zoom in to study the text and how to search the pages for specific words, then returns to his own desk.

He unwraps the new phone (it’s so pretty!) and turns it on. Figuring he can count on Gaius being distracted for a good few hours by the information Merlin has sent him from Oxford, Merlin busies himself with downloading apps and signing in to all of his accounts. He really should be continuing his research into Dragon Lords, but he just can’t face it. Not today. So, after lunch, still feeling a residual giddiness, and with Gaius still engrossed in his own research, Merlin decides to skive off completely.

He means to return to his room and draw some more, or perhaps go out into the city and find a nice cup of coffee somewhere he hasn’t been yet. Instead, and without really knowing how he got there, he finds himself outside Arthur’s door, again, staring up at the delicate scrollwork on the door frame, Merlin wonders what on Earth he’s doing here. He looks either way down the corridor but it’s deserted. Maybe he’ll knock and see if Arthur is in, see if he wants to go for a coffee? The very idea makes Merlin feel sick to his stomach.

Just as he’s decided to turn away, he feels himself reach out with a shaking hand and knock on Arthur’s door.

_What the fuck, Emrys? What have you done?_

“Come in." Arthur’s voice is muffled through the door, but still clear. Merlin considers running away. Why has he knocked? What is he doing?

Merlin pokes his head nervously around the door, peering cautiously into the room. Before he knows what's happening, someone grabs the front of his shirt and hauls him into the room.

"Merlin!" says the person manhandling him, "Come in, come in!""

"Gwaine?" Merlin asks, although he doesn't really need to. He remembers that cologne from their encounter in the hospital stairwell. He wills himself not to blush.

"Merlin!" Someone else shouts. Merlin looks over and sees that Arthur is seated on a sofa playing a video game and that Lance, Percival and Leon are there with him. Lance rises from the sofa and comes towards Merlin and Gwaine. Arthur gives Merlin a surprised sort of half smile.

"Good to see you again, mate." Lance says, shaking Merlin's hand.

Merlin is still too surprised to say anything, and Gwaine, still gripping the front of his t-shirt, pushes him further into the room.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Percival asks. He seems to be the only one who isn't pleased to see Merlin.

"Percy." Arthur says, warningly, and then smiles at Merlin again. "Come on in, Merlin. We're playing football."

"Yeah," Lance says, sitting down again, "It's the only type of football we can beat him at!"

Merlin goes to sit in an armchair, but Gwaine thrusts him onto the sofa beside Arthur and then forces a game controller into his hand. Merlin focuses on anything at all apart from the length of Arthur's leg against his, the feel of Arthur's elbow digging gently into his waist, the warmth of Arthur's body pressed against his own. 

"Let's see how you hold up against Merlin, Arth." Gwaine says, thrusting a game controller into his hand and diverting his attention. Merlin feels a cold panic flood over him. He's never played a video game before in his life. He remembers Percy's condescending manner and decides he can't admit that he's never so much as held a game controller before. He briefly considers using his magic to, if not win, at least put up a decent show.

Then he immediately decides that is an absolutely insane idea.

"No, Gwaine, let someone else go, I want to see what I'm up against." Merlin says, as confidently as possible. He holds the controller away from himself, brandishing it back towards Gwaine, who ignores him.

"What are you, scared?" Percy asks.

"What are you, five?" Merlin responds. Percy narrows his eyes at him, but everyone else erupts into raucous laughter.

"Ohhh," says Leon, reaching out for the game controller, "I think you've found yourself a live one, Arthur."

Merlin watches Arthur lose spectacularly to Leon, Percy and Gwaine, and then win against Lance in glorious fashion before he finds the controller passed back into his hands. He has surreptitiously been observing everyone's actions and feels confident enough to give it a go.

He does very, very poorly. By the end of his turn he knows his whole body is blushing. Gwaine and Leon are crumpled on the floor in fits of breathless laughter and Percy is sitting with the smuggest look on his face. Merlin ignores them because Arthur is looking at him very questioningly, and Merlin is trying not to give anything away. He thinks back to the conversation they'd had in the hospital room, and the fact that Arthur knows how poor Merlin is. Arthur knows that Merlin has never owned a television and more than likely has guessed that he's never played a video game before, either. Merlin stares into those blue eyes, willing Arthur not to make fun of him, or to reveal what he knows.

Arthur clears his throat. "Nice try, Emrys." Arthur says, finally, smiling at Merlin in a very comforting, reassuring way that makes Merlin's heart ache, "You lost on purpose you complete idiot."

Laughter erupts once more and even Percy is joining in. Merlin makes a show of trying to deny the accusation, but he loses his train of thought drowning, instead, in the feeling of Arthur's body vibrating with laughter beside him. When he's sure no one's watching them Merlin mouths a silent _Thank You_ at Arthur then suffers through a few minutes of them reliving his spectacular defeat before he gets up from the sofa. He hands the game controller to Leon.

"Well, as fun as _that_ was," Merlin says, "I'd better go. Gaius needs me. I only looked in to see how you were feeling."

"Hey, don't go, play one more round!" Merlin has to do a double take to confirm that it was, in fact, Percy speaking. Everyone stares at Percy in disbelief. "What?" He says, "That was the funniest thing I've ever seen!"

Over the continued laughter Merlin turns away from them all. "Tempting," he admits, "but no. I should be at work."

Arthur gets up and walks him to the door. Merlin feels incredibly self-conscious.

"Thank you for that, Arthur." Merlin whispers.

"Hey, listen, it was worth it. I haven't won that well in ages." Arthur replies. "Speaking of winning, are you nervous about Morgana's decision?"

Now this, this is ground Merlin feels less shaky upon. Looking directly into Arthur's blue eyes, Merlin lets all of his confidence show. "Not in the slightest."

Arthur regards him for a few seconds, curiously. "I don't know, Merlin, that's pretty cocky."

Merlin shrugs, "I'm good at cocky." Before Merlin can absorb the idiocy of the words he's just uttered, he turns away and walks down the corridor, barely taking the time to register the look of wide-eyed disbelief on Arthur's face. After the door shuts behind him Merlin slumps into another closed doorway and stands for a few heartbeats, eyes closed. Sometimes he doesn’t know what comes over him.

Instead of returning to Gaius’s office he rushes straight to his own room where he immediately gets out his sketchbook and pencils and spends a good hour trying to get the details right on Arthur’s incredible hands. He tries, gets frustrated and gives up then tries again. He may be getting the dimensions and perspective right, but all the emotion is missing. Flipping back to find a blank space on another page, Merlin comes across the drawing he’d completed on the train from Oxford the previous day, and his heart thuds painfully in his chest.

He’d drawn the Dragon Lord ascension ceremony, lush and celebratory, with Arthur as King and himself as the Dragon Lord. He's done a very good job - the scene is achingly beautiful and the drawing could grace the halls of a gallery it is so detailed and vibrant. But the sight of it makes Merlin’s heart sink. Supposing Merlin plucked up the courage to tell Arthur about his magic and detailed their apparent destiny, there is no way on this Earth that their story would end half as happily as these kings of old. More likely, Merlin sulks, flipping back a few more pages, it would end with him being burned at the stake, or, like the drawing on this page, hung for treason.

There’s nothing Merlin can do to convince Arthur that their paths lie together. Regardless of any romantic ( _read: lustful_ ) feelings Merlin is harbouring for the future king, regardless of the fact that they’re becoming sort of friends, Merlin’s destiny can’t lie here with Arthur’s. It just can’t. Arthur wouldn’t hear of it. Not him - not Merlin.

Setting his sketches aside, Merlin turns back to his research, feeling his heart sink like it's been weighted down. He will continue to collect as many Dragon Lord histories as he can, trying to find some sort of light at the end of his own tunnel. If he can collect more positive outcomes than negative ones, perhaps it makes sense for him to come out into the open?

He’s relying on that, but unfortunately, so far, it doesn’t seem to be the case.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 15 - In which Merlin digs himself into a deeper and deeper hole and Arthur learns something about Merlin that lends a bit of urgency to the entire situation.
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

**Chapter 15**

"What the devil could be so important?" Gaius asks, his voice raised. Merlin cringes away, clutching his coffee cup for dear life. It's too early for shouting.

"I was up late, Gaius, that's all."

"At the pub?" The tone of voice Gaius uses shows that he equates pubs with brothels.

"As a matter of fact, I was reading." Merlin says, calmly. He wants to shout that he'd been studying Dragon Lords and the myths surrounding them, but of course, he can't.

"Reading, eh?" Gaius says, totally unconvinced. "Well, here, then, here's something else for you to read. 'Tree species of the British Isles'. I need you to familiarise yourself with the different tree species and their uses. Pay specific attention to how to identify them.”

"Why? Are you setting an exam?" Merlin asks very grumpily, throwing himself into an armchair, being careful not to spill his coffee on the massive book Gaius has given him.

"Less attitude, more reading."

It takes every ounce of Merlin's restraint for him not to reply sarcastically. Instead he opens the book and starts to read. Gaius seats himself behind his desk, grumbling under his breath.

Merlin knows that Gaius is trying to help him by having him learn all of the things a normal apprentice wizard would learn, but sometimes Merlin still wants to smack him upside the head with one of the heavier volumes from his library.

Within minutes of starting to read, Merlin's eyes begin crossing. It is painfully dull, which is a shame because Merlin had quite enjoyed botany in secondary school. Being careful not to let Gaius see him, he takes out his phone and does a quick Internet search. Within minutes he's on a page where you can identify tree species by uploading a picture of the leaves. Imagining that is quite good enough for now, Merlin opens his emails and reads those instead.

He has to admit that his new phone is pretty great, even though he hates being given things for free. The idea that it is a work phone makes him feel only slightly better.

Time was Merlin had been content with just his one email address, but he is now conducting research of a sensitive manner so a few days ago he created a new address, one that doesn't identify him as a teenager or reveal the fact that he works for The Crown. After checking that Gaius is otherwise occupied, Merlin settles in to check this secret email account first.

There's a reply back from the Archivist in Bruges with a sizeable attachment. Merlin clicks it open and sees about a hundred scanned pages. Checking on Gaius again, he types in a quick reply of thanks and sends it.

He had contacted the Archivist not long after his discussion with Gaius, after following some leads online. Merlin had pretended to be a PhD student from The University of Glasgow, and the Archivist had been very helpful. At first he had suggested that Merlin look closer to home as the most widely recognised expert on the subject of Dragon Lords was a woman named Nimueh at The University of London. Which, of course, Merlin knew already but, again, it’s not a source he’s going to exploit. He's not comfortable with anyone knowing his suspicions until he has checked out all the facts.

Although, Merlin sighs, glancing over at Gaius again, it would be very nice to have _someone_ to confide in. He's considered telling Will, but he hasn't been able to get in touch with him for days. Gwen would understand, of course, but Merlin is uneasy about sharing this information with her having only met her a few months ago.

So he's utterly alone with this.

What he really wants, no matter how hard it might be to admit, is his mother back.

To put himself off thoughts of his mother Merlin opens the Archivist's attachment and begins to read. There isn't much here he hasn't already discovered. The Dragon Lords were leaders in ancient times, their natural born powers giving them the right to rule over all creatures on the earth. Kings and Queens deferred to their judgements for fear of retribution, though they generally ruled fairly, as far as Merlin could discern. According to reliable historical sources, the end of their reign had come about when the larger magical population decided they didn't fancy being told what to do and began killing the Dragon Lords one by one.

It was only after the fall of the Dragon Lords that magic users were forced into hiding. Without a figurehead to control them, they descended into chaos and the non-magical population sought to control them through a mixture of lies, brute force, and fear.

Merlin pauses to read a fairly modern section closely and learns that, in their absence, the magic users got used to being free to act as they pleased. Apparently they now fear the return of a Dragon Lord so intensely that seven times over the past three hundred years anyone rumoured to be a Dragon Lord has been murdered. Brutally. Thankfully, there are TV drama-esque illustrated montages of burnings and killings to help Merlin get the picture.  

Merlin's phone vibrates in his hand, distracting him from imagining his own gruesome death.

It's an email alert - Merlin opens his email and sees that he has received a message from Morgana.

_Merlin & Arthur, _

Merlin's heart races and quick enough that he wonders whether eyeballs can suffer whiplash, he checks the To: box. Morgana must have blind copied him in, because Arthur's email address is not visible. Setting aside his disappointment, Merlin reads on.

_Results are in from playlist competition and...Merlin has won! Congratulations! (Try not to tease Arthur too badly, he's never lost this game before.) (Also, sorry Arthur!)_

He won? Merlin wants to jump up and do a dance! He won!!

_The afternoon tea party awards ceremony (I joke) will have to be rescheduled as I have been called away to a charity event for a few days._

_Copies of the lists have been attached. Thanks for playing along, boys!_

Merlin reads and re-reads the e-mail, disbelieving.

He won.

He was pretty sure that he would, just because he probably knows more about Scottish music than Arthur. But he'd been nervous just the same. He'll have to try to track Arthur down and gloat a little.

Before he can open the attachment detailing the playlist selections, his phone vibrates again.

 

[text conversation between Merlin and Gwen:  
**Gwen:** Sorry M but Morgana needs me in Europe for a few days. Think we're back on Saturday? Not sure. Will text. Gx  
**Merlin:** But Gweeeeen! I miss you! I need you back in my life!  
**Gwen:** Saturday. Don't do anything stupid and don't miss me too much.  
Gx  
**Merlin:** Fine. Love you. Mxx  
**Gwen:** You too. Gx]  


Merlin's temporary elation at having won against Arthur dissolves very quickly. How on Earth is he meant to survive without the calming sanity of Gwen in his life? Dragon Lord stress aside, there is his growing obsession with Arthur to consider. Left alone in the Palace who knows what kind of trouble he'll get into.

On top of all that, of course, is his constant, lonely heartache.

If Merlin asked nicely enough, Gaius might let him have some time off, considering he’s mostly worked through the leave the King had granted... It would be nice to go back to Ealdor, to see Will and Jack and Isa. To see the sky properly and the stars at night. To smell the rain and the salt of the loch.

Merlin quickly checks his mobile banking app but sees less in his current account than he'd like. He considers dipping into his savings then reminds himself that those funds are earmarked, sacred, and not to be touched. So, regardless of whether Gaius would give him time off, he can't afford to go home.

Instead, Morgana's email being a catalyst, Merlin spends a good half an hour trying to uncover Arthur’s possible private social media accounts, or scouring Arthur's friends’ accounts for signs of him.

At one point he finds something that looks promising. It’s not a private account, but... He scrolls back through their feed and each one makes him smile wider and wider. Finally, unable to contain his excitement, he texts Gwen.

[text conversation between Merlin and Gwen:  
**Merlin:** I think I found HRH on twitter!  
**Gwen:** Arthur doesn't have twitter. Also, aren't you at work?  
**Merlin:** No, listen. He follows about 20 people, most of them are Arthur's friends of family, and he's just replied to Morgana's Europe announcement with a crying emoji.  
**Gwen:** That could be anyone. Stop stalking him and get back to work.  
**Merlin:** I'm NOT stalking him. Apparently he has an appointment tomorrow morning that he's not looking forward to at all. I really think this is him,  
Gwen.  
**Gwen:** Merls...  
**Merlin:** Fine. Fine. Enjoy Europe.  
**Gwen:** Do NOT throw yourself at the future king. Gx  
**Merlin:** I promise nothing. Mxx]  


"Sorry to interrupt all of your very important skiving off, Merlin, but could you please take these papers to Uther?" Gaius is standing in front of Merlin and regarding him with utter disdain. "If he is not in, do not leave them with George. Bring them back here to me. Understood?"

Without speaking, Merlin gathers all the papers and heads off to see the King. Maybe Gaius wouldn't give him the time off anyway.

Before he has gone more than twenty feet Merlin bumps into someone and sends Gaius's papers flying.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going! Let me help you." Morgause bends to help Merlin pick up everything he dropped.

"We have got to stop meeting like this." Merlin says, shrugging off her apology. She laughs politely but looks very stressed out. "You seemed in a hurry, where’re you headed?"

"Nimueh wanted me to meet her about twenty minutes ago but there was a problem with the trains. She hates it when I'm late. What's all this?"

"Stuff for Gaius." Merlin shrugs.

"Dragon Lords?" Morgause asks, holding a stack of papers out for Merlin to see. It looks like a printed out copy of a research paper. Merlin's stomach drops. Dragon Lords? What is Uther doing reading about Dragon Lords? Did Gaius tell him his suspicions about Merlin? "That's heavy stuff, Merlin." Morgause finishes, helping Merlin shuffle his papers together.  

Merlin's throat has gone dry in panic, but he tries to play it cool. There's no way anyone could know. "Is it? I wouldn't really know as I’ve not read these." Merlin tries his most charming smile on her and he hopes it works because if she figures out that Merlin knows more than he's letting on then he could be in big trouble.

Thankfully Morgause seems satisfied. They turn and walk together down the corridor.

"Morgana's away to Europe somewhere then?" Merlin asks, changing the subject.

"Lucky her, right? Although she had promised to take me away this weekend."

"Anywhere nice?"

"Somewhere with snow." Morgause says and there's a dreamy look in her eyes. Merlin almost feels sorry for her then he remembers that she's shagging Morgana and he can't feel very sorry for her for that.

"Well, I think my schedule's clear for the next few days, if you're bored enough. Drop me a text. I can't take you anywhere with snow, but we may find a way to have some fun in any case."

"Actually Merlin, that sounds great. I'll text you later and we can set a date. I'd better go just now, though. See you later."

Merlin waves her off down another corridor. Maybe the next few days won't be as lonely as he'd thought.

Before he reaches the King's offices Merlin ducks into an unused room and takes pictures of all of the pages Gaius had given him.

He has to know why the King is interested in Dragon Lords.

*

"What do you mean, you _lost_?" Lance says, biting into his sandwich.

"I mean," Arthur says, his eyes closing, "Merlin beat me. Morgana chose _his_ list."

"Wow." The look of utter disbelief on Lance's face correlates to how Arthur feels. "Wait, do you think Morgana chose him on purpose?"

"She didn't do that for Morgause, so I doubt she did it for Merlin." Arthur drinks soup out of the styrofoam take away cup Lance has brought him. They're sitting on a park bench enjoying what might be the last of the dry autumn weather before winter settles in.

"Well?" Lance asks, grabbing a crisp from the packet open on the bench between them.

"Well what?"

" _Is_ his better?"

Arthur doesn't answer for a minute, choosing instead to watch a particularly dark cloud scud towards them.

"It was, wasn't it?" Lance laughs. "Oh, I like Merlin more every time I hear about him."

Arthur accepts the teasing with bad grace, though he knows he deserves it. He does have a tendency to get holier than thou about music.

"If it turns out he's great at football, you've had it."

"You have actually seen Merlin, right?" Arthur asks, crumpling the paper wrapper from his sandwich and sticking it inside his empty soup cup.

Lance laughs heartily. "Good point, well made." Together they rise from the bench. Behind and around them Arthur's protection guard appear to flank them on their way back to the Palace.

"I like him." Lance says, glancing at Arthur as they walk side by side.

Again, Arthur says nothing. He can't very well come out and tell Lance that he's falling in love with Merlin, can he? Even if Lance is his best friend. There just no way Lance would understand.

It has nothing to do with Merlin being...well, common, for lack of a better word. It's just that in all the years they've known each other Arthur hasn't even admitted to so much as having a crush on anyone. Ever. If he suddenly came out to say he is in love, Lance would worry for his sanity.

He can feel Lance's eyes on him. He'll have to say something.

"I'm glad he's around." Is all Arthur says. It's the truth, even if it is a woeful understatement. If Lance guesses at the underestimation, he says nothing.

"Well I, for one, hope he stays." Lance says. Arthur nods automatically, but decides it's an odd thing to say.

"Stays when?" He asks as they wait for the lights to change to cross the street.

"Oh, Morgause says he's here until his birthday in April, then he's going back to Scotland. I just thought it might be nice if he stayed longer than that."

Lance isn't looking at Arthur and it's a good thing, as Arthur can feel the blood pouring out of his face. April?! How does he not know this? He must go speak to Gaius immediately.

"Morgause says?" Arthur asks, to prevent himself from freaking out on the zebra crossing.

"Yeah. I saw Morgause yesterday. She and Merlin went for drinks a few nights ago."

Arthur actually has to force himself to keep walking. He's learned before how dangerous stopping in the middle of a junction can be. Merlin and Morgause are, what, suddenly friends now? What the hell? _He's_ never even gone for drinks with Morgause!

"What will Gwen do, I wonder?” The question is out of Arthur's mouth before he can stop it.

“Gwen?” Lance asks, as though he's never heard the name before.

“Morgana's lady-in-waiting. She and Merlin are dating,” It's painful to say that out loud, “and I was just wondering what she'll do if he leaves.”

“Dating?” Lance asks, and there's something funny in his tone. “Merlin's dating…”

“Gwen, yes.” Arthur interrupts Lance, wondering where Lance's brain has suddenly escaped to. “It's not an unknown concept.”

“I _had_ heard that, actually.”

“What?” Arthur asks, thoroughly confused now. A second ago Lance had never heard of Gwen, now he's known all along?

“Well, Morgause mentioned _someone_ , I just forgot their name. But, it must have been this Gwen, then. Yes?”

Arthur just looks at Lance with an eyebrow raised. Lance abruptly changes the subject and Arthur jumps on the chance to stop talking about Merlin and Gwen.

“Have you patched things up with your father?”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asks, nodding politely at a group of tourists staring at him with their mouths wide open.

“Last time we spoke you were angry with him. Something about him trying to set you up with a child?” Lance has dropped his voice to below a whisper and Arthur barely catches what he says.

“Oh, it's his Dragon Lord obsession.” Arthur says dismissively.

“Again?” Lance asks, pausing while a daring girl asks Arthur for his picture and gets turned down by his guards who are trying to get him back home as quickly as possible.

“Still. I don't know what it is, really, but it started with my grandfather. Apparently the Dragon Lord is some sort of mythical being of pure magic and if I join forces with one we'll live forever or something. I don't know. But there hasn't been one of these Dragon guys for centuries, my father is just guessing.”

“Join forces?” Lance asks, eyebrows raised.

“Marry.” Arthur confirms, unable to help the annoyed tone in his voice. “The last one was fifteen.”

Lance laughs out loud, causing a group of school girls to turn and giggle at them.

“Still, this Dragon Lord is supposed to be a bloke, so it softened the blow when I told Uther that I'm gay, even with the succession crises that causes.”

“He's a strange man, your Dad.” Lance says, again in a whisper not loud enough for the guards to overhear.

“Yes.” Arthur replies simply.

For the rest of the walk to the Palace, Lance amuses them both with a long story about a dodgy waiter at the races, but Arthur has pretty much disengaged from the conversation. He can't stop thinking about Merlin and this apparent, surprise deadline. He'd had no idea the boy’s time here was to be so brief. He tries to follow along with Lance, he really does, but all he can think is _APRIL_???


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16 - In which Arthur, deciding he needs a bit of a diversion, invites Merlin for another swim and Merlin, deciding he needs a bit of a diversion, goes along.
> 
> Chapter tags: #dreamtonightmare #dreamedmajorcharacterdeath #insomnia #fateanddestiny #sleepwhatssleep

#  **Chapter 16**

_Merlin’s stubble is rough against Arthur's fingers as he runs the tips of them along Merlin’s jaw with agonising slowness. Merlin, his eyes closed and his head resting back against Arthur’s shoulder, let's out an almost involuntary sigh, his breath hot on Arthur's thumb where it is pressed against Merlin’s lips. Arthur's other hand grips Merlin’s hip, his fingers toying teasingly with the edge of Merlin’s unbuttoned trousers. Arthur lets out a low, rumbling moan as he skates his teeth over Merlin’s bare shoulder, scraping the edge of bones under thin skin._

_In an instant the dream changes and Arthur is holding Merlin in his arms and Merlin is bleeding copiously from an obviously fatal wound, his face pale and accusatory. Arthur is muttering a stream of apologies but there's nothing he can do for Merlin and a second later Merlin's body feels cold in his arms._

When Arthur wakes up he's surprised to find himself alone in his bed - so vivid was his dream that he expects to find Merlin clasped in his arms. As Arthur blinks away the remnants of the dream a blanket of loneliness and unease descends upon him. He has to fight an impulse to get up and go to find Merlin, to make sure he's safe. Then, as he sits in the darkness, he begins to calm and think in a more rational way. Thinking not of Merlin's eyes or his cheekbones or his beautiful, beautiful body (which is what he usually thinks about when he's alone in the darkness), but of Merlin's thoughtfulness and sense of humour. He'd brought Arthur his favourite coffee for God's sake! He'd arranged for Arthur to go swimming with him when Arthur had said he'd grown restless. He'd saved Arthur's life with absolutely no regard for his own safety - Arthur remembers the map of bruises which coloured Merlin's chest. Arthur had never really thought of the danger Merlin had put himself in. Arthur should have been more grateful.

Come to think of it, he'd never properly thanked Merlin for the coffee or the swimming or anything. Arthur grabs his phone from the bedside table and scrolls to Merlin's number. He spends ages typing out a thank you message then decides that's stupid, especially considering he's never text Merlin before. Then he decides he should just thank Merlin in person. That way, as well, he'd be able to make sure that Merlin is safe.

Even though it's after midnight, and before he realises what he's doing, Arthur has sent Merlin a text.

[text from Arthur to Merlin: Merlin, it's Arthur. I fancy a swim. You in?]

Should Arthur have said that Gaius gave him Merlin’s number? Did that make it seem like Arthur was stalking Merlin? How ridiculous, anyone could have given him Merlin’s number. Morgana, Gwaine, anyone. Arthur could have gotten it from Merlin's personnel file. Arthur probably could have bribed someone at the mobile phone company to give him Merlin’s number. Either way, Arthur feels stupid and nervous after he's sent his text and he paces his room, hoping Merlin gets back to him soon.

He doesn't. Arthur waits almost twenty minutes, driving himself completely crazy with possible reasons Merlin might not text him back, so that when his phone finally beeps he picks it up so fast it nearly rockets out of his hand.

[text from Merlin to Arthur: Arthur who?]

Arthur experiences a moment of panic while he double checks the number that he got from Gaius. But it is correct; Merlin is just being cheeky. He wonders whether to be cheeky back, or to just answer properly, and, after letting his stomach flip flop for a while, decides on cheeky.

[text from Arthur to Merlin: You know, ARTHUR, from the other night. ;)]

Feeling nervous at his own daring, Arthur gets up to pace the room again, praying it doesn't take Merlin 20 minutes to reply this time. He feels like he's five years younger and has just text his crush for the first time. It's both pathetic and exhilarating.

[text from Merlin to Arthur: Oh, THAT Arthur. Aye, I'm in. Meet me at the South Gate in ten?]

Arthur practically dances with joy, then goes to pack a holdall with some gear for swimming. He's immensely glad George isn't packing it this time. Though he hopes Merlin doesn't have to tell everyone on the staff where they're going, Arthur knows that's probably just wishful thinking.

*

Merlin waits at the South Gate where he told Arthur he'd be. After receiving the text from Arthur, Merlin spent ten minutes freaking the fuck out before sitting down to try and formulate a response. Arthur text him. _Arthur text him! Ahhhhhh!_

He was glad Arthur had caught him awake, despite the late hour. He’d been up reading the Archivist's documents in detail and it wasn't enjoyable, so Arthur's invitation was a welcome diversion.

The guard in the guardhouse is the same man that had been there on Merlin's first day at the Palace. Merlin nods at him and gives him a weak smile, but the guard merely looks as though he's hoping for an excuse to arrest him.

Merlin is in the process of giving the guard a once over and deciding he wouldn't mind being handcuffed by him - it would prove to be another welcome diversion - when Arthur shows up.

Arthur, no doubt catching the look on Merlin's face, glances between him and the guard with one eyebrow raised.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" Arthur asks, sounding rather annoyed.

"Actually, Arthur, I think you've just saved me from a night in lockup." Merlin says. Arthur looks between the two men once more, but seems satisfied.

Arthur has ordered a car for them and it is waiting at the kerb. Merlin holds the door open as Arthur climbs in, trying not to let his eyes linger too long on the bare skin of Arthur’s back which is visible for a few seconds as he bends to enter the car. He’ll have plenty of skin to look at later this evening. Merlin prepares mental images of horrible catastrophes in preparation. As he settles into the seat next to Arthur their arms brush lightly and a shiver runs down Merlin’s spine. He shakes his head, laughing at himself for acting like a sex-starved teenager. Which, in all actuality, is exactly what he is, come to think of it...

"So," Arthur says as the car pulls away, "you went with 'Cat Stevens'"

Merlin's laugh explodes out of him. Morgana had warned him Arthur was a bad loser. "Aye. It was between that and 'James'." Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin sees Arthur shaking his head. "I knew you would choose 'Hometown'"

"It's their best song!" Arthur argues heatedly. Merlin laughs again, unable to help himself. Arthur has launched into a speech about how lyrically complex Fatherson can be, and Merlin just listens to him talk. He'd made that exact same argument to Will earlier this year, and it’s nice to hear someone else on his side.

After that they talk about how Roddy Woomble’s hair looks better short and how Idlewild’s latest album is almost as good as “The Remote Part”. Then they talk about There Will Be Fireworks, and Arthur claims that “River” is their best song, even though he'd chosen "Foreign Thoughts" for his playlist, while Merlin stands firmly behind his choice of “Here Is Where”. After _that_ they both decide they could have made an entire 13 song list of only Frightened Rabbit songs, but that wasn't the point.

When Arthur starts defending Biffy Clyro (they didn’t _sell out_ ), Merlin cuts him off in the middle of a sentence, "I'm sorry I beat you. Your list was very good."

"They were surprisingly similar, weren't they?" Arthur says, lighting the whole back of the car with his smile.

Merlin wants to capture this car ride forever. He wants to be this happy and carefree for the rest of his entire life. He thinks of the stacks of papers in his room extolling the many vicious ways he can expect to be murdered, and how confused and terrified the last week (has it really only been a week?) has been, and again he feels very grateful to Arthur for this evening's diversion.

The street outside the swimming baths is just as deserted as the other evening. Merlin's original agreement with the owner of the club had been for a one-off visit, but Merlin had contacted him again and he'd given Merlin free reign as long as Arthur was involved. So Merlin lets them into the building using the key code the owner had given him, being sure to lock the door behind them. He reaches out with his magic to make sure they are alone, and the only other person he can sense is Arthur.

As they go up the stairs and into the changing rooms Arthur is unusually quiet. The camaraderie they had shared in the car has fizzled out completely and Merlin can’t help but feel a little nervous.

"Couldn't sleep?" Merlin asks, trying to draw Arthur out of his shell.

"No." Arthur replies, glancing sideways at Merlin with a look on his face that Merlin can't quite read. "I go through phases, actually. Sometimes I have...dreams."

"I can tell by your tone of voice that you don't mean fluffy unicorn dreams." Merlin says, closing himself into one of the changing cubicles. He changes as quickly as possible, wanting to maximise his half naked Prince time.

"Not exactly, no." Arthur says from the neighbouring cubicle, his voice muffled briefly by his t-shirt as he lifts it over his head. Merlin, for sanity's sake, tries not to picture Arthur disrobing in too great detail. "Although there are unicorns sometimes."

"What do you mean there's unicorns sometimes?" Merlin asks, leaving his cubicle and waiting for Arthur, who appears a few moments later looking like a model for a posh swimwear catalogue. Merlin, feeling incredibly grateful that he's bought new swimming trunks, reminds himself not to stare at the future King, but it's not easy.

"Well there's one dream I remember vividly in which I kill a unicorn." Arthur shakes his head as though confused. Merlin looks scandalised. "But then it comes back to life? I don't know... There's unicorns sometimes, anyway, but they're never fluffy."

"Sounds interesting at least." Arthur makes an annoyed chuffing sound as they climb the stairs, as if to question Merlin's judgment. "I mean, my last dream that I can remember was about socks, so I'd take unicorns over that any day."

Merlin feels uncomfortable with the lie, though telling Arthur that he often dreams of _him_ isn’t exactly appropriate. Especially when neither of them are fully clothed. He looks around, expecting a response to the socks dream comment, but he has lost Arthur’s attention. They have reached the pool area and Arthur is now looking up through the glass roof into the night sky. It's a beautiful, cloudless night and there are many stars, more than Merlin would expect in the heart of London.

Arthur wanders towards the edge of the building and looks out over the city. Merlin watches him for a long moment before his attention is grabbed by a cloth-draped table at the edge of the pool upon which the owner of the fitness centre has left a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice, two glasses, a vase of red roses and a silver tray with very expensive looking chocolates. Merlin feels his stomach drop to below sea-level. His first instinct is to freak the fuck out, but he decides he needs to play it cool so that Arthur doesn't freak the fuck out.

"Look at this, Arthur!" Merlin says, trying to sound like this is funny and not panic-inducing at all, "They think I'm your date!"

Arthur walks over, not really comprehending at first, then he takes in the flowers and everything else. He meets Merlin's eyes then looks him over slowly with an intense gaze that makes Merlin's toes curl and makes something deep within him come entirely undone, then he shrugs his shoulders in an unfathomable expression and picks up the bottle of champagne.

"I suppose, if this is going to end up in the papers tomorrow, we may as well give them something to write about. Champagne?" Arthur pours two glasses then hands one to Merlin.

"Arthur, I'm only seventeen." Merlin says as though admitting a dirty secret. Arthur shrugs again and gives the glass to Merlin before clinking them together.

The champagne is very good. Arthur seems to agree, and takes another sip before he pops a chocolate in his mouth, letting it melt a little.

"It has a nice ring to it, though." Merlin says, watching Arthur sip his champagne almost lazily.

"What does?"

" _Contributing to the delinquency of a minor_." Merlin replies with a cocky smile. "It sounds so much more scandalous than _Arthur's Secret Swim Affair._ "

Arthur coughs a little, clearly shocked and unsure of what to say. Merlin laughs, tilting his head back to drink the rest of his glass of champagne before turning to take a running leap into the water.

*

Arthur doesn't finish his glass. He figures he still needs to be careful with his alcohol intake after his head injury, especially when there's water involved. However, he refills Merlin's glass and brings both of them to the edge of the pool where he lowers himself in gently.

Merlin certainly had nothing to do with the champagne and chocolates, the look on his face told Arthur as much. It was as though he was expecting Arthur to run away at any moment. Besides, he doubted whether Merlin had the wherewithal to choose such a nice champagne. Or the wherewithal to pay for it. So it must have been the owner of the centre or whomever Merlin has been dealing with to arrange these evenings. If they are willing to let them in after hours and trust Merlin with security access codes, they have to have ulterior motives, and perhaps selling the story to the press is the end game.

Arthur is surprised by how little that prospect bothers him. Normally he would be mortified by the very idea of a story like that appearing in the press. They’re always scrabbling for crumbs when it comes to Arthur’s personal life, and on many, many occasions they have been terribly wrong with their guesses, but Arthur finds that he wouldn’t mind them speculating about a relationship between him and Merlin. It doesn’t scrape against his soul like other speculations have.

Watching Merlin splash about like a wild animal, Arthur feels a strange contentedness settle upon him. He thinks he would be quite happy to stay here at the leisure centre for the rest of his life, so long as Merlin was here, too. Then Arthur actually laughs out loud at himself and the stupidity of the situation, wondering when three sips of champagne became enough to make him giddy.

He swims a few laps as energetically as he's able, relishing once again in the feel of his muscles stretching and getting use. He feels better than he had the last time, but he still tires easily. Merlin, of course, flounces around in his chaotic manner, not sticking to a lane or to any swimming stroke Arthur has ever been taught.

After a while Arthur notices that Merlin has pulled up at the edge of the pool and is resting with his elbows out of the water, sipping his drink. Arthur does a few more lengths then makes his way over. There are wet footprints leading away from the pool and back again; Merlin must have gone for a refill.

"How's your head?" Merlin asks, handing Arthur his glass.

"Fine, actually. Surprisingly. It's good to get out." Arthur watches Merlin. There are dark circles under his eyes, he looks exhausted. "Thank you for coming with me."

Merlin smiles at him very softly, lowering his eyes, and it makes Arthur feel an almost physical pain.

"Listen, mate, anytime. Well, not during working hours, obviously, but apart from that."

"You don't think Gaius would give you time off for swimming?"

"Naw. Are you kidding? He'd give me into trouble for taking two minutes too long over my lunch break." Merlin laughs. His cheeks are pink from the champagne and the physical exertion. It's a good look on him. Arthur has to fight back against the urge to run his thumb over the pink of Merlin’s cheeks.

"Bit of a task master, is he?"

"You've no idea. Well, actually, you may, I don't know. He's very strict in any case."

"I remember." Arthur says, fondly.

"Aye." Merlin smiles a warm smile that makes Arthur believe he's beginning to like Gaius, even if he'd never admit it.

After a long moment where Arthur watches Merlin look up into the night sky, Merlin turns to him with a very serious expression on his face.

"Arthur, can I ask you something...personal?" Merlin can barely meet his gaze, it is very unlike him. Maybe it's the champagne or the intimacy of the situation, but Arthur feels suddenly nervous. He wonders, slightly terrified, whether he's about to be asked out on a date.

He hears himself say "sure" without really deciding to speak. Luckily he doesn't sound nervous.

Merlin looks back into the sky as he tilts his head to empty his glass, swallowing hard. He then looks at Arthur and holds his gaze for a very long time before he speaks.

"The whole Future King thing...the destiny thing...how...how do you..." Merlin stumbles over his words uncharacteristically. Arthur feels his ears begin to blush; maybe he IS about to be asked out. "How do you handle it?" Merlin finally finishes, looking askance.

Arthur deflates a little, wondering if that is really what Merlin wanted to ask. He studies the younger boy's face, for the first time really feeling the two year age difference. Merlin looks very frightened, very tired, and very, very serious. Arthur considers the question for a few minutes, taking slow sips of his champagne and feeling Merlin’s eyes on him.

"I saw a David Attenborough programme once about these owls," Arthur begins, hoisting himself out of the pool and walking towards the cloth-draped table. "They live in the redwood forests in California," Arthur gets the bottle and the small plate of chocolates then turns back to the pool. "And they build their nests in the tallest trees in the world. They don't think about it, probably, they just see a nice tree and think, 'I'm having that."' Arthur lowers himself into the water. "The thing is, when their baby owls start learning to fly it's an awful long way to fall. But the baby owls don't have a choice. They were born at the top of these trees and they have to fly - all owls do, right?" Arthur pours the last of the champagne into Merlin's glass, enjoying holding his attention for so long. "But the baby owls can't fly yet so they fall. And like I said, it's an awful long way to the ground. It isn't far at all to the nearest branch, though, and that's how they do it. They fall to the ground one branch at a time and, somewhere along the way, they learn how to fly."

Merlin stares at Arthur for a long time. Arthur tries to act naturally, even going so far as eating a piece of chocolate but his mouth is too dry and he struggles to swallow it, having to take a drink to get it down.

"The baby owls, though, they had their whole lives to look down at the ground from the top of the tree." Merlin says, now looking anywhere but at Arthur. "They grew up knowing they would have to jump one day, maybe planning their route down from branch to branch. It'd be different, wouldn't it, if they'd been born nearer the ground?"

Arthur takes a moment to think while Merlin finishes his champagne. He feels as though the conversation they’re having is not actually the conversation they’re having, but he has no idea what they’re actually talking about, except for owls. "If they're born nearer the ground they wouldn't have so far to fall."

Merlin doesn't look like this is what he wants to hear. Arthur lets a few minutes pass in silence. Somehow he doesn't think Merlin has finished talking, but he seems reluctant to go on. The nervousness rising in Arthur again, he speaks, slowly at first then all at once. "Listen, Merlin, if you have something to say, or if you wanted to talk about something, you can talk to me. I know I'm _Arthur_ , but I'm also _just_ Arthur."

Merlin looks at him, very serious again. Arthur thinks they've passed more time in silence this evening than since they met, and this particular silence feels weighted with uncertainty and Arthur hates it.

"I know, Arthur. I know." Merlin finally says, so quietly Arthur could have imagined it. Then, without warning, Merlin moves forward and kisses Arthur once, lightly, on the corner of his mouth.

Before Arthur can react, Merlin has disappeared under the water.

*

[text conversation between Merlin and Gwen:  
**Merlin:** Oh, God, Gwen, are you there? I've just done something totally stupid.  
**Gwen:** Merlin, it's two in the morning! Exactly how stupid was this thing you did?  
**Merlin:** I kissed Arthur...  
**Gwen:** Fuck me. I told you NOT to throw yourself at the future king! Were you not listening?  
**Merlin:** How bad is it? Is this Tower of London bad? Or just First Flight to Glasgow bad?  
**Gwen:** Well, that depends, was it a Gwaine in the stairwell kind of kiss?  
**Merlin:** No. It was more like "cheers for the sympathy, mate".  
**Gwen:** Tongues?  
**Merlin:** WTF Gwen, no! It's Arthur!  
**Gwen:** EXACTLY!  
**Gwen:** What did he do?  
**Merlin:** I don't know.  
**Gwen:** What? What do you mean you don't know?  
**Merlin:** I ran away.  
**Merlin:** I'm in the bogs.  
**Gwen:** Very smooth.  
**Merlin:** GWEN!!!  
**Gwen:** Sorry, love.  
**Gwen:** Um.  
**Gwen:** Just go back out there and act like nothing happened. If you make a big deal of it, he might, too.  
**Merlin:** Right.  
**Merlin:** Christ, Gwen. You must bever leave me again.  
**Gwen:** Apparently not. Good luck.]  


After he finishes texting Gwen Merlin flushes the toilet, just in case. Which is a good thing because when he gets out of the cubicle, Arthur is standing in the toilets, holding each end of a towel which is draped casually over his shoulders. He looks incredible. His eyelashes are damp and his hair is chaotic from being roughly toweled dry.

Merlin had been so close, so very close, to telling Arthur everything. About Gaius and the birthmark and what it maybe means. About all the stories he’s read that insist he align himself with Arthur or die. About the crushing weight of panic and the desperate loneliness that is Merlin's life at the moment. He wants to ask Arthur, properly, how he, Arthur, can function under the shadow of destiny. Merlin has only been aware of his own destiny for a few days and it's already killing him.

He also wants to tell Arthur how stupid in love with him he is. How he’s so lucky to have Arthur in his life. How sometimes when he's around Arthur he forgets how confused and sad he is. How Merlin wants to hold Arthur tightly until he turns to dust and then Merlin wants to absorb the dust and live the rest if his life with Arthur inside of his bones.

But, of course, he can say none of this. So, keeping Gwen's advice in mind, Merlin says exactly nothing.  

"It's late." Arthur’s voice is low. Merlin crosses his arms and leans against the cubicle wall.

"Aye, it is." He can feel Arthur's eyes boring into him.

"We should probably..."

"Aye."

Merlin watches Arthur walk away to get dressed, then he heads for his own cubicle, making a mental note to never venture out with Arthur again, especially not alone after midnight.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 17 - In which Merlin gets drunk and Arthur reacts.  
> (yes, I'm leaving that intentionally vague.)  
> (because I'm evil.)
> 
> Chapter specific tags: #don'tpanic #minorcharacterinjuries #minorinjuries #impliedphysicalviolence #barelyunderagedrinking #angst #haveimentionedtheangst #moreangst #butwaitthere'smoreangst #MerlinSpeaksScottish 
> 
> Merlin is VERY Scottish in part of this chapter. I've left it untranslated because I think most of his meaning can be gathered through context. If you're really having trouble just say it out loud, fast. There are a few words that I've defined in the end notes. If anything is properly unclear leave me a comment and I'll do what I can. It's tough for me to tell because I know what he's saying. Cheers!

#  **Chapter 17**

 

[text conversation between Merlin and Gwen:  
**Gwen:** I'm back early! Where are you? Gx  
**Merlin:** GWEN!! Thank fuck! Please come rescue me!  
**Gwen:** Rescue you? What have you done now?  
**Merlin:** Tristan and Isolde have kidnapped Freya and me! We're in a pub.  
**Merlin:** There may be alcohol. Mxx  
**Gwen:** It's two in the afternoon, you lush!  
**Merlin:** It's Isolde's birthday and Tristan is buying. Mxx  
**Gwen:** Which pub?  
**Merlin:** That's my girl!]  


"GWEN!” Merlin shouts, spotting her entering the pub. The other patrons (who are considerably less intoxicated), glare at Merlin as he drunkenly disrupts their afternoons.

“Merlin, if you’re not careful, you’re going to get us kicked out!” Freya mumbles, just as loudly as Merlin and the two of them dissolve into giggles.

“Gwen, I am so glad you’re here. You have to help me corral this idiot!" Tristan says, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulder and cuffing him affectionately around the head.

"Oi, watch it ye bastirt! I'll skelp yer erse if yer no careful!" Merlin threatens. Tristan and the girls burst out laughing. Merlin looks around for the source of amusement.

"My God you're Scottish when you're drunk!" Gwen says, taking Merlin's half-finished pint off him.

"Gies ma drink back!" Merlin shouts, too late, as Gwen downs the rest of his pint. Merlin, admitting defeat, slumps against their table. "Right enough, I'm steamin'"

"I blame Tristan," Freya says, trying very hard to hold her head upright.

"I blame Tristan too." Gwen says.

"Naw, ye cannae dae that, hen, it's aw oan me." Merlin mutters, unsure if anyone is even listening. Gwen grabs Tristan's hand and drags him towards the bar. "Waur ye aff tae?"

"Drinks!" Gwen shouts back. Merlin watches them go, then turns to Freya.

"I've hud a pure shite week, so ah huv." Merlin says, resting his forehead on the edge of the table. Freya pats him clumsily. Merlin remembers what a tit he'd made of himself at the swimming baths and wishes time travel was one of his magical powers. Actually, he’s never tested that - it might be...

"It can't have been that bad, Merlin, surely." Isolde tries to cheer him up, patting his shoulder. Tristan returns with a drink for her and she takes it from him, thanking him in a depressingly non-verbal manner. Merlin takes the water Gwen hands him and drinks it quickly.

"Oh, god, he's not still moaning, is he?" Gwen asks, narrowing her eyes in Merlin's direction.

"Awright," Merlin says, conceding, "ah'll hing aff whinging! Bit it wis a _shite_ week!"

The others laugh, then Gwen busies herself with wishing Isolde a happy birthday, and with catching up with the others. Merlin let's himself retreat into his own head for a while.

It’s been less than 24 hours since his accidental almost-kiss with Arthur and he knows - he just _knows_ \- that he won’t be hearing from Arthur again. Ever. It’s not the sort of mistake you can just recover from. So here he is, with his only other friends in London, drinking to drown his emotions. So far, it seems to be working.

"Food, I think." Gwen says, "then more drinking." She helps Merlin put his jacket on then they walk out of the pub in a big group. The cool air outside rouses Merlin a bit.

"How was Europe?" Isolde asks Gwen, linking arms with her.

"Same as it always is. Although Morgana did buy me a dress and take me along as her Plus One to a big charity ball in Paris."

"Was it wonderful?" Freya chimes in wistfully.

"It was." Gwen answers, then looks at Isolde as though waiting for something.

Together, Isolde and Freya say, "Can I borrow the dress?" And Gwen laughs.

"Always." Gwen replies, hugging her friends close.

Merlin doesn’t know how they get home at the end of the night, as his memory goes fuzzily blank sometime while they’re still at the club, but he falls asleep not thinking about Dragon Lords or vicious murders or, most importantly, how he’ll probably never see Arthur’s golden smile ever again.

*

"Good morning, your Highness."

"Gaius." Arthur nods at him, walking slowly into the office.

"How's the head?" Gaius asks, coming around his desk as though to inspect Arthur.

"Better, thanks." Arthur says, truthfully. "Uther might even let me leave the Palace unaccompanied sometime soon."

"I wouldn't count on that." Gaius says, smiling. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, Gaius, I'm looking for Merlin." Gaius raises one eyebrow in Arthur's direction but doesn't say anything. Arthur decides that for dignity's sake, he should elaborate. "Gwaine and Leon have challenged him to a re-match." He shrugs, hoping that he sounds casual.

Gaius seems satisfied. "I'm afraid I haven't seen him all day. He didn't show up to work this morning." Gaius says, sounding incredibly disappointed.

Arthur starts to feel a bit worried. Merlin hasn't replied to his text message, which is why Arthur had come to look for him here. Quite apart from wanting to see Merlin again as soon as humanly possible, Gwaine, Percy and Leon _have_ actually asked to see him, too, so Arthur, knowing him best, apparently, has been sent as liaison.

"You might try his rooms, Arthur. The boy does have a startling tendency to lie in." Gaius’s voice is tinged with annoyance, but Arthur knows better. He knows from experience that Gaius hides his fondness for anyone out of a desire to protect himself.

“I’ll check. If he turns up could you please let me know?”

“Of course.” Gaius says, nodding his head. Arthur is glad that Gaius doesn’t ask too many questions, because he might just come out with the truth. He can picture their conversation now:

 _“Why do you need him?”_ "

 _“Because I’m hopelessly in love with him, of course._ "

 _“Well, he is dating Guinevere Smith, Arthur, and it's serious._ "

 _“I DON’T CARE! I’m in love with him, and I am going to tell him._ "

At which point Gaius would explain that Arthur isn’t like that, that Arthur would never sabotage anyone's relationship just to justify his own feelings. But Arthur would tell him that he’s like that now, because of Merlin.

Instead of announcing his intentions to lay his heart out and destroy Merlin and Gwen’s happy relationship, Arthur just says his goodbyes and departs to check Merlin’s room for signs of life.

After the almost-kiss at the pool, Arthur has decided to confess his feelings to Merlin, and he feels like he needs to do it immediately, before he loses his nerve.

There is no answer when Arthur knocks on the door to Merlin's suite, so Arthur lets himself in to the unlocked room. All of the curtains are drawn even though it’s mid-morning. When Arthur’s eyes become accustomed to the darkness, he can only stand in the middle of the room and stare.

Gwen and Merlin are sound asleep on the sofa in a tangle of limbs and half-discarded clothing. Gwen's face is nestled comfortably beneath Merlin's chin, and his arms are wrapped around her protectively.

Somewhere at the periphery of his vision he notices Gwen’s bags and suitcases hastily discarded in Merlin’s bedroom door, half unpacked.

They’re living together, then.

It is almost as though Arthur can feel the sharp edges of his heart breaking, as cliché as that sounds. Each miniscule crack is like a knife wound. He stands there, looking at the ghost of a smile on Gwen’s face as she sleeps, and he wants to push her off Merlin and banish her from his kingdom so that he doesn’t ever have to see that smile again.

He wants to never have met Merlin.

He wants to never have been born.

That’s how bad it is.

Arthur can’t be here. He’d come to find Merlin to confess his love. To tell Merlin that he is hopelessly lost and could Merlin find it in his heart to help him find his way. And now this.

Arthur leaves the room as quietly as possible so as not to wake them.

He stands outside the door for a while, thankful there is no one witnessing his complete emotional collapse. After what feels like years he straightens himself, brushes away the single tear that has escaped from his closed eyelids, and heads off in search of his father.

*

When Merlin finally rejoins the land of the living it’s night time. He's never been so hung-over in his life. Whose idea was it to drink champagne cocktails? Never again.

Merlin goes to check on Gwen before taking a long, hot shower and heading out to find himself something to eat. Gwen is not in her room. Merlin searches his discarded clothes for his phone and finally locates it inside one of the pockets of his jacket.

There are nine unread messages.

Three are from Gaius wondering where Merlin is and condemning him to the fiery pits of hell for missing a day of work. Merlin ignores these - he’ll apologise in person later.

One from Gwen sent this morning:

[text from Gwen to Merlin: I'm alive. Morgana needs me. See you later. Gx]

Merlin relaxes. No need to worry, then. He goes on to read the three messages from Will:

 

[text from William to Merlin: Hey mate. Issue with McTavish. Call when you can.]  
[text from William to Merlin: Merls? You alive mate?]  
[text from William to Merlin: Officially worried. Call Immediately.]

Merlin is about to close out of his messages and call Will when he sees that the last two text messages are from Arthur. His heart rate skyrockets. He vaguely remembers that most of his alcohol consumption the previous evening had been in order to obliterate memories of the colossal mistake he had made in trying to kiss Arthur at the swimming baths. With his eyes partially closed in a grimace, Merlin reads the first message.

[text message from Arthur to Merlin: Gwaine and Leon are after a re-match if you're up for it; they're coming over just before noon. Don't try too hard to lose this time. Gwaine could stand losing; it'd be good for his ego. Arth.]

Arthur has invited him round to play video games? But, how can that be? How can that possibly be? Merlin had _kissed_ him. Like a lovesick fool. What on Earth could Arthur possibly be thinking just casually inviting Merlin around to play video games after something like that?

Merlin takes his long, hot shower before replying to Arthur, but mainly to stop his hands from shaking. It’s not an easy task. Merlin had himself convinced that he was never going to see Arthur again, and had spent the previous evening mourning the loss of his friendship by imbibing half the liquor in London. Any other outcome just doesn’t make sense.

After his shower, Merlin picks up his phone again, intending to send out the forcibly casual reply he had drafted in his head, which is when he sees his second, forgotten, text from Arthur.

 

[text message from Arthur to Merlin: Re-match rescheduled. Father needs me to attend Diplomatic event in Iceland. Gone 9 days. Arth.]

There! That’s the aloof _I’ll be nice to him until I’ve cut him out completely so as not to cause a scene_ response that Merlin had been expecting.

For some inexplicable reason, this makes Merlin feel much better about everything in general.

His world finally making sense again, Merlin goes out in search of the strong coffee and the greasiest food he can find.

*

"Morgana, I'm telling you I didn't have a choice." Arthur says down the phone, for what feels like the tenth time. "Father told me to come and so I came. Yes, I know he had me on house arrest. I was there, remember? I don't know why he changed his mind, maybe he just didn't want to come to Iceland."

Arthur barely listens to Morgana's half of the phone conversation. He is flicking through news channels trying to find one in English. "Yes, I know you love Iceland. Yes, I know you love Icelandic people and I know you love the volcanoes and lagoons."

"Yes, I'm alone, Morgana. Who would I have taken here with me?"

Arthur flops down into an armchair, turning the television off, annoyed.

"Morgana, if you want to come along so badly then just come along. No I won't have time to go to the lagoons with you. No we're not spending the nights out on the town. Yes, I can see why you might think that coming here isn't really worth it if we're not going to take advantage of the increased hours of night."

Arthur lets Morgana talk and talk and talk.

"Morgana, I'm back in just over a week. We can go out when I get back. Yes, I promise to invite you along next time I travel anywhere. Yes, I promise to bring you back a lovely present to apologise for not inviting you this time. Now, I've got to go. I'm due at a meeting at half six in the morning and I need to get some sleep. Yes, I know I'm turning into an old man. Goodnight."

Arthur hangs up the phone and toes out of his shoes and socks then pads barefoot into the hotel bathroom. The bathtub is massive and is exactly what he needs. As he settles himself into the steaming water he closes his eyes and leans his head back.

Truth be told he'd had to argue with Uther to let him attend this summit. Uther still felt that Arthur wasn't well enough to travel. But Arthur had had to get out. He needed some space and some time away from Merlin, because his ridiculous, pointless obsession with the boy is threatening to take over his entire life.

So he'd come to Iceland to attend some painfully boring seminars about climate change, none of which will make any difference at all to anyone ever. But it’s nice to show face.

Arthur's phone chimes from the bathroom counter, but he ignores it. It's probably just Morgana sending him a scathing text message to finish their conversation. She loves having the last word.

*

Merlin is woken by the sound of his phone vibrating on his bedside table. He fumbles for a few seconds in the darkness before finally figuring out how to answer the call.

"’lo?"

"Merlin? It's Isa. I'm sorry to bother you."

Merlin sits up, immediately alert.

"Isa, what's wrong?" There's a chance Merlin is shouting.

"It's Will, Merlin. There's been an accident. He's been badly injured. You'd better come."

"Where is he?" Merlin asks, getting dressed and throwing whatever clothes he can put his hands on into his shoulder bag.

"The hospital in Fort William."

"I'm on my way. Thanks, Isa." Merlin hangs up the phone.

"Merlin?" Gwen is at his door. "Is everything okay?"

"No. My friend Will's been hurt. I need to get home."

"Oh, god. Right. What can I do?"

Merlin blinks at her for a few seconds, not sure what to say. He's overflowing with panic.

"I need a flight to Glasgow."

"I'm on it." Gwen says, racing out of Merlin's room. By the time Merlin has tied his shoes Gwen is back. "The earliest one is out of London City airport, 7:05."

"Gwen, that's in four hours. I can't wait that long." Merlin feels the panic welling up again. Something has happened to Will. If they took him to the hospital in Fort William then he's been very badly injured indeed. Merlin needs to get there as soon as possible.

"There's a night bus that leaves in about ten minutes but it's a six hour drive, so you'd get to Glasgow about the same time as the flight."

This is no good. Merlin needs to get there now.

He makes his decision in an instant.

He digs his credit card out of his back pocket and hands it to Gwen.

"Book the flight, and then the earliest train from Glasgow to Fort William. Please."

"But..."

"Gwen, I have to get there _now_ , so I'm going to get there now. But if anyone asks, you saw me get a taxi to London City Airport. Okay?"

"Yes. Of course." Gwen says, wrapping her arms around Merlin's shaking body. Merlin continues packing his bag until Gwen has finished with his credit card, then he hugs her again. "Is it safe?"

"Don't know." Merlin says, kissing Gwen quickly on the cheek and then backing away, closing his eyes to concentrate as hard as he can. "I've never done it before."

Everything around Merlin turns to disordered chaos. There is a rush of deafening noise and Merlin feels suddenly sick, then a dropping-out feeling of disappearing, followed by a suffocating feeling like diving too deep under water.

The next time Merlin opens his eyes he's standing with his bag in the men’s lavatory at the train station in Fort William.

*

"Where am I?" Will asks, waking groggily.

"In a hotel room." Merlin answers, leaning back from Will and rolling up his sleeves.

"Merlin?"

"Aye."

"What are you doing?" Will asks, lifting himself up on his elbows. The colour drains from his face. Merlin pushes against Will's chest until he's lying flat again.

"They said you'd never walk again, Will."

"I know."

"So I kidnapped you. I can't do this in public, remember?"

"Right. Right. What exactly are you doing?" Will asks, a tremor of fear in his voice.

"Fixing you. Hold still."

Merlin holds his hands as still as possible over the crushed bones in William's lower legs, then he uses all the magic he can muster to knit them back together. Inside the hotel room the air becomes electrically charged. A rumble of thunder sounds over the mountains and it begins to rain, hard.

Within two minutes Merlin's work is done. He sits back on his heels, exhausted. William's face is a mask of pain, but he looks otherwise alright.

"I wouldn't have asked you to do that." Will says, looking at Merlin very seriously.

"I know." Merlin mutters.

"I was fine with the surgeon's plans."

"They couldn't have fixed you." Merlin says.

"I know that." Will concedes. Then, he looks at Merlin and smiles. "Thank you."

"Not a problem." Merlin says, feeling the edges of his vision darken. That had taken a lot out of him.

"What now?" Will asks, sitting up properly.

"Well, I think I'm going to black out for a while, but after that you're going to tell me everything that happened." Merlin says, closing his eyes and collapsing back onto the bed.

*

"Gwen." Merlin says, answering his phone.

"What's happened? Is everything okay? Why haven't you answered my texts? Why haven't you called? Also, Gaius is going mental."

"It's a long story. Will is okay, I'm okay. Tell Gaius not to worry."

"When are you coming back?"

"I don't know, Gwen.”

"Where are you?" Gwen asks. She sounds nervous.

"We're staying at the Alexandra Hotel in Fort William."

"Do you need anything?"

"Just cover for me with Gaius. I don't want to get sacked, Gwen."

"Gaius wouldn't fire you for something like this, Merlin."

Merlin thinks about all of the magic he’s done in the last 24 hours and decides Gwen is very, very wrong. This is exactly the sort of thing Gaius would fire him for.

"I'll be back soon, I promise. Love you."

"Love you too, you idiot."

*

“So, you think you’re in love with Arthur, then?” Will says, shoving a chip into his mouth. Merlin stabs a chip with his tiny wooden fork and stares at it moodily.

“I know I am.” He bites at the edges of the chip, but doesn’t eat it. He has no appetite.

“And this is a different kind of love than it was when you were 14 and he was the main source of your masturbatory fantasies?” Will says, his lips turning up in a smile.

“Ew. Aye, Will. God.” Merlin puts down his uneaten chip and Will eats it himself.

“I’m just asking. Because you say you’ve been in love with him for years, so…”

“Look, it’s not like that.” Merlin feels like he’s talking to Gwen all over again. How can he explain that his love of Arthur has so very little to do with how incredibly good looking he is and everything to do with how incredibly _good_ he is.

“If you say so!” Will exclaims, unable to stop himself from laughing.

Merlin grabs another chip, but doesn’t eat it. He looks out over the water and lets his eyes unfocus, blurring the edges of the world. “It doesn’t matter, though. Even if I do love him, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“How no?” Will asks, following the line of Merlin’s eyes out towards the horizon.

“Well, he’s my boss, is he no’?” Merlin says, sighing and closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again the world has re-focused.

“Aye.” Will says, the tone of his voice making Merlin look towards him. His eyes are distant and clouded with some emotion that Merlin cannot place. “If Arthur tried it on with you, would you say no?”

Merlin thinks very hard about the answer to this question. Beside him Will finishes the chips and scrunches the empty bag into a small ball, throwing it in the general direction of the nearest bin. “No.” Merlin finally admits. “But not because he’s my boss.”

“Because you’re in love with him?” Will says, walking over to where the chip bag ball had landed and picking it up.

“Aye, because I’m in love with him.”

Will puts the bag into the bin, making sure it’s tucked away out of the wind so it won’t come loose. “Are you sure?” Will asks, looking over at Merlin, his eyes dark. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that? What would happen if you refused him?”

“I’d get the sack.” The answer is out there before Merlin has a chance to consider it. But it _is_ true, isn’t it?

“Aye.” Will says gravely, as though this settles it.

Merlin walks beside Will along the edge of the water in silence. He feels as though the conversation has become suddenly bigger than him, and it frightens him. He’s always been conscious of Arthur as three almost separate people. One of them is Prince Arthur, son of the King and sole heir to the throne of England. The second is Prince Arthur, Merlin’s employer, who can order him to do basically anything and Merlin must obey. The third is Just Arthur, the Arthur who plays video games and reads "Neverwhere" and drinks champagne beside swimming pools. Merlin is in love with Arthur, yes, but is he only in love with Just Arthur? Can he honestly say that he’s in love with Prince Arthur, too?

Merlin stares out at the water, reaching down and grabbing Will’s hand for support. In the distance a small boat potters out into the water, and a lone seagull circles high above them.

Yes. Yes, I’m in love with all of them. Merlin thinks, and the idea is utterly terrifying.

Before he gets a chance to really sink beneath the surface of his introspection, Will speaks again. “So, tell me about this Dragon Lord stuff, then.”

Merlin, looking over his shoulder to make sure there’s no one listening in, tells Will everything. Well, almost everything. Considering the conversation they’ve just had, Merlin thinks it’s unwise to explain how he’s pretty sure it’s his destiny to ascend to the throne with Arthur and rule by his side until they die.

*

Arthur re-reads the message from Merlin over and over again on the flight home from Iceland.

 

[text message from Merlin to Arthur: Thanks for the invite. Sorry I was out. See you soon. M]

Arthur hasn't text him back. He can't bring himself to. It's just about the most platonic text message he's ever received, and that includes texts from politicians and diplomats.

It is thoroughly depressing.

Over the past week Arthur has come to terms with the absolute shambles his life has become since Merlin entered it. He's been so completely obsessed with the boy that he has let all other aspects of his life dwindle in comparison. He’s behind on coursework for the first time, ever. His friends are worried about him, even Gwaine is starting to think something is wrong.

To address this, Arthur has decided to arrange a boys night out when he gets back to London.

He will not invite Merlin. He doesn’t want to see him.

Arthur stares out the window of the plane, watching the sea slide beneath him. That’s an absolute lie. He does want to see Merlin. He wants to see him very badly, all the time, and in spite of his aching heart.

But he will not invite him along.

Arthur quickly checks the sports fixtures on his phone, picks a game and sends out a text message: _Scotland V England footy - Sat 3pm. Drinks etc. In or out?_

He sends the message to the usual crowd, but definitely NOT to Merlin.

Within minutes Gwaine, Leon, Lance and Percy have all replied IN. Gwaine’s message also says: _Can I invite a few friends?_

Arthur sends a second message saying the guys can invite whom they like, and that George will make the requisite arrangements.

Two hours later, the guest list is nearing 50 people. Arthur doesn’t care. There’s only one person he wants to spend any time with lately, and that’s exactly the person he has definitely not invited. After that he doesn’t care who comes.

*

"Merlin, go. I'll be fine. I can handle McTavish."

"He ran over your legs with his car, William." Merlin says.

"Not on purpose. He'd been drinking. And don't call me William." Will looks out over the loch. The tide is well out and the smell of desiccated seaweed permeates the morning air. The council must have been out in the night, because the bin that had been overflowing yesterday is now empty, the wind sucking the plastic liner inside out and whipping it around loudly.

“Come to London with me.” Merlin demands, ignoring Will’s admonishment.

“I can’t. It’s only a few months until I’m 18, and I promised Jack and Isa that I’d take over at The Prince and Crown.” Will says, taking Merlin’s hand in his. They lean back against the railing and watch two gulls fight over some food, wheeling and cawing through the sky.

“So come down until your birthday, like me.”

“And leave Jack and Isa here by themselves? No. I can’t. They took me in, Merlin, what do you want me to do?”

“At least stay well away from McTavish when he’s been drinking.” Merlin says, and they catch each other's eye before their laughs ring out over the loch. They’ve both had plenty of run-ins with McTavish over the years; the whole village has. The McTavishes are the black hole of Ealdor, and everyone would be well shot of them. The problem is they’re the only ones up there with any money, so most of the village works for them in one way or another. Will has three different jobs working for them, on top of him working in the Inn.

"So go. Go back to London." Will urges him. Merlin still hesitates, trying to think of something he hasn't already said, something that could convince Will to come with him. He draws a blank. "Go, for Christ's sake. And give that prince of yours a kiss from me. And do it properly this time, none of this _corner of the mouth_ rubbish. Do you need me to give you some lessons?"

Merlin tries to cuff Will about the head for that comment, but Will has ducked away from him and run up the sand and across the grassy council park towards the roundabout. Merlin shakes his head as he follows Will, the two of them running across the busy road and into the supermarket car park on their way to the train station.

“You know where I am if you need me.” Merlin says, pulling Will into a crushing hug as they enter the train station.

“Same goes for you, mate. Don’t let that prince of yours ruin you, ok?”

“I’ll do my best.” Merlin says, smiling fondly. Then he kisses Will once, firmly, and turns away to board his train.

Will watches from the train platform until Merlin is out of sight.

The trip to Glasgow takes forever, but Merlin enjoys the journey. He tries to empty his mind as the scenery flashes past, knowing he won't be seeing his home for months maybe. He even manages a few rough ballpoint sketches on his napkins. It's the first time he's really felt like drawing in ages.

They pull in at Queen Street station and Merlin alights from the train, clutching his leather bag. He's got three hours before his train to London departs from Central Station. His first stop is the mobile phone store to buy a new charger as his battery has been dead for days. The shop assistant very kindly offers to charge Merlin's phone for him while he's shopping, so he leaves it with her and heads back out into the city.

It's quiet on the streets, but Merlin supposes late afternoon on a Friday is usually quiet. The council workers hanging Christmas lights in Royal Exchange Square serve as a friendly reminder of the upcoming holiday, and Merlin takes the opportunity to pop into the tackiest tourist shop he can find and load up on cheap souvenirs. He delights in finding whiskey flavoured condoms (of which he buys many). In a nicer shop he takes his time picking something perfect for Morgana, Morgause, Gaius, Gwen, and even Arthur.

He makes another stop at a specialty store to pick up the order he'd phoned in from Fort William, then heads back to the phone shop and collects his mobile.

He reads his texts while munching a haggis supper from the Blue Lagoon on Gordon Street, then has to backtrack to Greaves Sports where, among other things, he purchases a navy blue holdall in which to carry all of his other small purchases.

On the train to London he only manages to make it to Carlisle before he falls into a very deep sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> skelp - a slap or smack  
> steamin' - drunk  
> ah'll hing aff whinging - I'll stop moaning.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 18 - In which Arthur and his friends gather to watch a football match and Merlin shows up and complicates everything.
> 
> No chapter specific tags. Merlin speaks Scottish again, but a lot less crazy than last time. Definitions at the end if you need them.

#  **Chapter 18**

With only ten minutes to kickoff, Arthur keeps scanning the room. Merlin isn’t here yet. Which makes sense, considering Arthur had definitely not invited him.

The private suite George hired for them to watch the match is full of people Arthur knows vaguely, mostly friends of his friends, most of them wearing either red or white England football strips. If Merlin were here (and how could he be, without an invitation?), Arthur has a feeling he would know about it.

Arthur tries to join in the pre-match conviviality, but he's having a hard time paying anyone any attention when his eyes keep sweeping the room every ten seconds, just in case. It’s utterly pathetic behaviour, and Arthur knows it. Maybe on some level he hoped that Lance would invite Merlin. After all, Lance has admitted to Arthur that he likes having Merlin around. So maybe, just maybe...

Arthur has resigned himself to a depressingly Merlin free evening when he hears a commotion at the entrance to the room, looks over, and practically chokes on his lager.

"We'll be coming, we'll be coming, we'll be coming down the road!" Merlin chants at the top of his lungs.

"Christ, who invited the Scot?" Percy asks, not unkindly, clapping Merlin on the shoulder.

"When you hear the sounds of the Tartan Army boys, we'll be coming down the road!" Merlin has disappeared into a group hug led by an already intoxicated Gwaine. Arthur can just barely see the fake ginger hair of his See You Jimmy hat. Merlin has outdone himself. He's wearing the St. Andrews Cross around his neck, draped like a cape over his Scotland top which is tucked hastily into a (Arthur nearly chokes again) kilt. The outfit is completed by Merlin's worn black boots. He looks rather incredibly sexy.

He's launched into a second chorus, despite being quite heavily drowned out by folk chanting 'England 'til I Die', and makes his way over to Arthur drawing (hopefully) good natured daggers from some of Arthur's more Unionist guests.

"You trying to get killed, Emrys?" Arthur asks, grinning. Merlin is too busy chanting to answer him, but he winks at Arthur and Arthur stops breathing for a second.

"Sorry I'm so late," Merlin says finally, sitting on the stool next to Arthur, "The guys outside were convinced I was lost."

"Can you blame them? You don't exactly blend." Arthur replies, gesturing at Merlin's ridiculous getup.

Merlin smiles broadly, then leaps to his feet as the wailing of bagpipes signals the beginning of his National Anthem.

"Oh flower of Scotland, when will we see your like again?" Merlin bellows at the top of his voice. Gwaine ambles over and throws an arm around Merlin's shoulder, joining him in singing even though he doesn't know more than half the words. Arthur feels jealous at the casual closeness of the gesture and he stares for a long time at the intersection of Gwaine's hand and Merlin's shoulder.

When the song is over a few people clap and both Merlin and Gwaine take a bow. Arthur does not join in with the crowd singing God Save the King, but he makes a good show of it in any case. Merlin, for his part, sings this anthem as well, he and Gwaine now swaying back and forth, arms around each other's waists.

Arthur can't help the stab of jealousy he feels while watching Gwaine and Merlin, even though he knows it is both unfounded and completely ridiculous. He wishes he were the type of person who could just throw his arm around Merlin like that and have it mean nothing at all. The trouble is, with how Arthur feels about Merlin, a gesture like that would mean so much more than nothing.

"Drinks?" Arthur asks when the singing has stopped, hoping he'll have enough time to get a round in before kickoff. He needs a drink. Or five.

"Pint for me." Gwaine says, echoed by Lance, Leon and Percy who seem to have all heard Arthur despite being engaged in conversations elsewhere.

"I'll join you." Merlin adds, turning to follow Arthur to the bar.

"Nice kilt." Arthur says, glancing down to surreptitiously admire the swish. "I didn't think you were such a nationalist. Part of the Yes minority, we're you?"

Merlin laughs, but doesn't answer the question. When they get to the bar Arthur places everyone's orders then turns to ask Merlin what he's having only to see Merlin digging notes out of his sporran.

"Merlin, what are you having?"

"I'll just get my own, thanks."

"Don't be ridiculous, Emrys, it's my round. What are you having?"

"I said I'll get my own." Merlin replies, forcefully, not looking at Arthur. Arthur wonders what the problem is, but doesn't say anything, shrugging at Merlin as though it's no big deal. He then tells the bartender to pour him a shot of anything at all, because he's going to need more than just a pint or two in his system to deal with the swirl of emotions he's experiencing.

Whose idea had it been to invite Merlin, anyway?

Arthur curses himself as he downs the shot then, erring on the side of caution, he orders a second one.

He can feel Merlin's eyes on him as he throws his head back, and he tries to pretend he doesn't care.

When the game starts, Merlin dissolves into the crowd, which gives Arthur a welcome break from remembering what it felt like to have Merlin's lips against his (however briefly).

By halftime the score is still nil-nil, and neither side has played very well at all, which is a blessing for Arthur as he's never sure who to root for in situations like this, being the future king of Scotland as well as England. It is a delicate situation and the reason that Uther doesn't enjoy sports.

Gwaine arrives with the halftime order of drinks, and Arthur takes his gratefully. He can feel the dull fuzz of the alcohol just hovering at the edges. It's a good feeling.

When Gwaine hands a drink to Merlin, Arthur can feel his eyebrow raise in curiosity. Had Merlin allowed Gwaine to buy a drink for him? After he'd made such a point of denying Arthur the opportunity?

Arthur doesn't miss the deliberate way that Gwaine runs his fingers against Merlin's on the side of the glass as he's handing it over. Arthur knows from experience that the gesture is meant to be far from innocent. Merlin thanks Gwaine and then, almost as though he can't stop himself, he glances in Arthur's direction. Merlin's cheekbones are lightly tinged with pink, as they had been at the pool when he and Merlin had been drinking champagne, almost two weeks ago.

Percy, Leon and Lance appear out of nowhere for a customary halftime discussion of tactics. Merlin defends Scotland's choices vehemently and knowledgeably, proving that he's a firm follower of his International side, which surprises Arthur. Percy, it seems, is surprised as well. Perhaps Percy had taken Merlin's failure at the video game to be a sign that Merlin didn't like sports. If that was the case, it seems Percy is wrong.

Throughout the proceedings Arthur notices Gwaine "casually" touching Merlin no less than ten times.

Arthur can't stop his heart from sinking. He remembers the drape of Gwaine's arm around Merlin's shoulders as they sang together. He remembers Gwaine's fingers gripping Merlin's hip as they swayed back and forth. The gestures are almost too familiar.

Within seconds Arthur has himself convinced that Merlin and Gwaine are shagging each other.

Gwaine.

Arthur can't even look at him.

He should have known Gwaine would have gotten to Merlin somehow, regardless of any attachment Merlin might have to Gwen. Merlin is just too good looking. And Gwaine, unlike Arthur, has a track record for not giving a damn whether the person he's pursuing is available or not. It's one of the reasons Arthur is so touchy on the subject.

Gwaine has always taken what he wants and everyone else's feelings be damned.

Arthur looks back at Merlin but he's giving nothing away. Why would he?

Arthur, deciding he's had enough, escapes to the toilets. He wishes he could see inside Merlin's head and see what the fuck is going on in there. Surely the way Merlin acted with Arthur, all the moments they'd had, the almost kiss at the swimming pool, surely that couldn't mean nothing. Surely. Was Arthur kidding himself? He'd thought that Merlin was, perhaps, attracted to him, but was holding back because of his relationship with Gwen. A decision that Arthur both understood and respected. Arthur was prepared to wait.

How Merlin is acting with Gwaine, though, makes Arthur think, for the first time, that Merlin must be having a game of leading Arthur on, and the idea has him really hacked off.

He's still bristling as he exits the cubicle.

"If you’ve somethin’ te say, " Merlin says over Arthur's shoulder as Arthur walks to wash his hands, "jest say it."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Arthur says, looking at neither Merlin nor his reflection.

"Aye, ye dae." Merlin says, coming closer to Arthur. "You've been in a shite mood wi’ me since I got here. I ken ye didnae invite me, but Gwaine did, an’ I..."

The rest of Merlin’s sentence is lost in the wave of blind rage that cascades over Arthur. _Gwaine_ had invited him. Of course. He should have known. Gwaine with his curls and his swagger and his ability to not give a damn about any one's feelings but his own. Arthur vaguely becomes aware that Merlin has stopped talking and is waiting for Arthur to say something. Arthur, feeling all of his pent up emotions coming too close to the surface, almost shouts at him. "Alright, yeah, I do want to say something." Arthur turns to look at Merlin at last, trying to ignore the kilt and the bare knees and the fact that the Scotland strip looks like a children's size it's stretched so tight across Merlin's thin shoulders. At some point Merlin has lost his hat, his hair is dishevelled and messy; Arthur loves that. "Why wouldn't you let me buy you a drink?"

The question sounds pathetic and Arthur knows it.

"Is that aw?" Merlin asks, a bit of colour tinging his cheeks.

Arthur knows what Merlin wants to know, but pretends he doesn't.

"Yes." He lies. He wants to say: _NO! It's not all! Why Gwaine? Actually, forget that, why GWEN?_

 _Why not me?_

But he doesn't say any of that. Merlin's searching look makes Arthur think he knows exactly what Arthur wants to ask. There is a very long moment of silence during which the two of them draw unconsciously closer together, so that when Merlin finally does speak he's very close to Arthur indeed.

"You're my _boss_ , Arthur." Merlin says, shaking his head sadly, his eyes almost closing. "It's just...." Merlin lets the sentence hang, then repeats, "You're my boss."

It's not the first time Merlin has alluded to Arthur being his employer - the night they’d met outside the Club, for instance. He has imbued the word with such meaning that Arthur finally understands this is a real problem for Merlin, though he doesn't understand why.

They stand for a few moments longer, too close to each other. Close enough that Arthur can smell Merlin's cologne. Close enough that Arthur can feel the tension pouring off Merlin. Arthur's eyes rake along Merlin's unshaven jaw, lingering on the redness of his full lips. Then he looks Merlin in the eyes again and sees a tumult of emotions there. Merlin takes his bottom lip between his teeth and exhales, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Arthur leans forward by millimeters, close enough now to kiss Merlin, and he knows that this time he's going to do it, Merlin's relationship with Gwen and all of Arthur's principles be damned.

The outer door to the toilets opens and, before anyone walks through the inner door, Merlin has stepped away and into a cubicle. He moves so fast that Arthur feels the vacuum of space where he'd been.

Percy claps his hand around Arthur's shoulder.

"Thought you'd got lost, Pendragon. Second half's about to start, you don't want to miss Scotland getting beat." Percy raises his voice at the end, which means he knows Merlin is in the toilets too.

"Piss off, Percy." Merlin says from inside his cubicle.

Percy laughs, dragging Arthur out of the toilets and back into the crowd. They make it back to the table just as the whistle blows for the second half. There's five minutes on the clock before Merlin arrives back at the table, but he doesn't stay long. He grabs his drink and heads away to another corner of the room where he settles into a group of people including Owaine and Pelinore.

Arthur keeps his eyes on Merlin during the entire second half, but Merlin doesn't look in his direction.

*

Merlin can't bring himself to look at Arthur. He can still feel the heat on his cheekbones from their almost kiss. Hopefully everyone will attribute the flush to the (admittedly not insubstantial) amount he's had to drink. The evening had been going surprisingly well, considering Merlin had had to talk himself into coming. Was it fun to be the only Scotland supporter in a room of Englishmen? No. He was probably also the only one in the entire building who had ever counted their change, paid for their own electricity bill, or gone to sleep hungry. But he'd shown up. And even Percy had been a laugh about it.

Then Gwaine had gone and been all _Gwaine_ and Arthur had inexplicably taken the huff. It probably has something to do with Arthur wanting to play with all the toys at once, Merlin reckons His Royal Pratness rarely has to share.

Of course, that's assuming that Arthur wants to play with Merlin at all. As Merlin accepts a drink from Owaine and knocks back half of it at once, he runs through the stupidly mixed signals he's received from Arthur thus far, decides it's too complicated to even try to decipher, and drinks the rest of his drink.

A burst of raucous laughter nearly draws Merlin's attention to Arthur's table, but he resists. If only he could get inside that idiotically beautiful head for one second so he can figure out what the fuck is going on beneath that crown of golden hair. There have been so many times when, like their encounter in the bathroom, Merlin was sure Arthur was seconds away from pressing his advantage, but maybe Merlin is fooling himself.

Of course Merlin understands it's only physical. There is an obvious heat between them, but never in any of Merlin's most vivid fantasies (of which there have been many) is there ever any emotion on Arthur's behalf. Which, if Merlin is completely honest with himself, is absolutely acceptable. There is no reason on Earth that Arthur (ARTHUR) would be interested in Merlin. Not for anything more than a quick shag up against some vertical surface, anyway. Usually what Merlin imagines is Arthur cornering him somewhere and politely requesting that Merlin suck his royal cock. At which point Merlin would gratefully and obediently drop to his knees with a smile.

He'd let himself be used by Arthur because he wants Arthur so badly, however fucked up that might be. That is how Merlin's fantasies go. Arthur commands and Merlin follows orders. Cause and effect. As simple as that. It had been a very close call in the toilets. Merlin had been a breath away from begging Arthur to use him in any way he saw fit, regardless of the consequences.

It is too complicated to trace those thoughts back to a logical beginning, so Merlin does the grown-up thing and ignores Arthur while drinking copiously.

Merlin lets a few more people buy him drinks - for all their faults, Arthur's friends are, at least, generous. Scotland score with ten minutes to go in the game and Merlin makes a good show of it, chanting loudly and running a lap around his table, but his heart isn't in it. It's only a friendly, after all.

At the end of the game it's 1-1. Arthur is still at his table and, as Merlin watches out of the corner of his eye, Gwaine, Lance, Leon and Percy all make their way back to him. Merlin stays with Owaine and Pelinore as long as he can. They have a few laughs but, as the crowd thins out, Merlin faces up to the inevitable. He's going to have to go speak to Gwaine, and, subsequently, Arthur. Gwaine had invited him here, it would be rude of him not to say thank you.

He hopes he'll get away with a passing farewell, but a hand reaches out and grabs him as he's passing the table. He hopes to fuck it isn't Gwaine.

"Oi! Merlin! Don't go!" Leon shouts, dragging him to the table.

"Hey!" He says, looking accusingly at Leon. "I wis walkin’ ‘ere."

"You have to help us." says Percy.

"Help ye whit?" Merlin asks, trying to squeeze himself around the small table. Standing next to Percy, Merlin feels tiny. Percy is only a few inches taller than him but he's a big guy and Merlin is really not.

Deciding he'll have to do it at some point, he looks up at Arthur who is looking right at him, a painfully crooked smile on his face.

"We're trying to figure out who Lance has been shagging." Arthur says, waggling his eyebrows, "In secret!" God help it but Merlin’s knees do go weak when Arthur says the word “shag”.

"Yeah," adds Leon, "Apparently Lance has got himself a girlfriend, but he won't tell us who she is."

"He doesn't mind telling us how smart she is, though." Gwaine says.

"Or how beautiful." Percy says, using both his hands to mime massive breasts.

Merlin looks over at Lance questioningly. A secret girlfriend? How odd. Especially since Merlin knows someone with a secret boyfriend. Could it be? The look on Lance's face says YES. Merlin feels his eyes widen. _Get in there, Gwen, ya wee beauty_ , Merlin thinks, elated.

"Ach, come awn," Merlin says, winking at Lance, who visibly relaxes, "She cannae be that clever an’ braw if she's goin’ wi’ Lance." The table explodes into laughter. Gwaine almost falls off his chair. Percy claps Merlin around the shoulder in a friendly gesture that nearly knocks Merlin off his feet.

A few minutes later, and despite multiple objections, Merlin finds himself walking back to the Palace with Arthur and his crew. It’s a very cold November day and there’s a spit of rain in the air. Merlin purposely lags behind the group, expecting Lance to fall into step beside him, which he does, acting overly nonchalant.

"Thank you." Lance says under his breath.

"Nae bother. Can I tell her I ken?" Merlin smiles.

"Sure. And, just for the record," Lance says, very seriously, "It's not my choice to keep this a secret."

"Oh, aye?" Merlin says as sarcastically as possible, not believing Lance for a second. It's hard to believe something like that out of him when he's part of this crowd. Gwen is like Merlin and Lance is her Arthur. If Merlin were dating Arthur he wouldn’t be quite about it. Although, Lance is just about the nicest, most sincere guys Merlin has ever met, so maybe he’s not lying.

"Really." Lance says. Merlin looks at him and his face is so earnest that Merlin has no choice but to believe him.

"Alright, I believe ye. I’ll say, though, Lance, if ye ever hurt her ye’ll have me tae deal wi and, trust me, ye dinnae want ta see me go radge."

Lance laughs heartily and very loudly. Ahead of them Arthur and Percy turn around to see what could possibly have made Lance laugh like that. Merlin rolls his eyes and looks skyward.

"It's a nice sentiment, Merlin, really, but there's just no way you could keep a threat like that." Lance says, wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes. Merlin tries not to feel too wounded by the words.

"Oh, aye, I really could." Merlin says, hoping the tone of his voice implies exactly what he wants it to imply. Lance is taken aback and he walks a few paces just staring at Merlin, who looks back at him unblinking. When Lance finally looks away Merlin feels like he's gotten his point across.

“I almost didn’t ask her out.” Lance says, still looking askance at Merlin.

“How no?”

“I’d heard a few rumours she was already seeing someone.” Lance shrugs.

“Who?”

“You, actually.” Lance says, shrugging rather sheepishly.

Merlin chokes back laughter. He remembers the awkward conversation he and Gwen had had, what felt like months ago, wherein she thought he fancied her. Could a guy not have a friend who is a girl without people assuming? Was Merlin’s gay vibe just not strong enough?

“Naw. She’s braw, an’ aw, but I dinna fancy ‘er. I fancy somebody else.” Merlin says, the words out of his mouth before he can stop them. And then, though he is trying not to as hard as he is able, he looks up at Arthur where he’s walking beside Gwaine at the head of their crowd. A split second later he tears his eyes away, convinced that, even if Lance saw him looking at Arthur, he wouldn’t ever assume that’s who Merlin meant.

_Please, god, don’t let Lance guess who I meant!_

For the rest of the walk Merlin studies Lance’s profile to see if he’s suspecting anything, but Lance gives nothing away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> braw - fine or beautiful, a compliment  
> radge - someone who's lost the plot or gone mental
> 
> FYI : the general idea behind Merlin's outfit: [ Kilt with Scotland Strip (this one is Cricket, but you get the point)](http://www.cricketscotland.com/media/resources/2016-Photos/Scotland_Team/Sion.jpg)  
> Also, a see you jimmy hat, just google it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 19 - In which Merlin has to face consequences from his trip to Fort William and Arthur tries to cope with his disappointment. 
> 
> Chapter specific tags: #implied historical physical and mental abuse
> 
> There's one note at the end regarding Scottish slang.

** Chapter 19 **

"You really are just an absolute idiot, boy."

Merlin, emerging from under the duvet, blinks away the brightness of the room. From the sound of the voice, a very irate Gaius is somewhere nearby, but it takes Merlin a few seconds to locate him.

"I don't know what you were thinking! Actually, it's pretty obvious that you weren't thinking at all. Now get up, we have to clean up the mess you’ve made."

Merlin casts his mind back over the previous evening. He'd had a few more drinks with Arthur and his friends after the match but he'd behaved himself! He doesn't bother asking Gaius what he's on about as he struggles out of bed, staggering under the weight of his sudden hangover. He puts on the clothes Gaius has thrown at him and follows him blindly out of the room. 

"Is everything alright Merls?" Gwen asks, coming from her own room, wrapping herself tightly in her dressing gown and looking extremely worried. He waves a hand at her, physically incapable of speaking until he's woken up a bit more. 

When they reach his office Gaius shuts and locks the door behind Merlin then mutters a few words in a foreign language which Merlin recognises as a spell. 

Merlin sinks into a chair, still half asleep, as Gaius sits behind the desk. "Tell me about Fort William."

Merlin wakes fast, as though he's been doused with cold water. He decides to tread carefully. "I went to visit a friend, that's all."

Gaius thrusts a handful of newspaper clippings at Merlin who scans them quickly, feeling slightly sick.

_ Mysterious disappearance of critically injured patient raises suspicions at Highland hospital. _

_ Miraculous recovery of wounded man calls NHS practices into question. _

Merlin's first instinct is to deny everything, but he knows better than to try that with Gaius, who always seems to be one step ahead.

"Now, again: tell me about Fort William."

"His legs were shattered. I had to."

"Had to? No. Let me tell you what you have to do; you have to be more careful. I've told you before to not do magic if you can help it, and what do you do? You go gallivanting off to..."

"But they said..." Merlin tries to interrupt, but Gaius is still shouting.

"...and using your magic all over the place with no regard to the consequences. No thought to what the authorities might say when they..."

"It's not even illegal, though." Merlin attempts, to no avail.

"It might be legal but it's still not accepted and I asked you to be more careful."

"Gaius he's my..." Merlin tries again but Gaius has a strong wind in his sails and is barely pausing for breath. Merlin can feel his own temper rising to danger point.

"...and not even stopping to think how this would look..."

"Enough!" Merlin shouts, standing up, shaking with anger.

A wind whips up in the room like a thunderstorm, the smell of ozone in the air, and the glass lampshade on Gaius's desk shatters. "He's as good as my brother, Gaius, and if you think I wouldn't move the stars in the sky to protect him then you can fuck right off." 

Merlin turns his back on Gaius, walking to the door. 

"Now you listen here." Gaius says, punctuating his sentence with a pound of his fist on the desk. 

"No!" A crash of thunder reverberates through the room. Merlin doesn't even flinch. "You listen; I'm tired. I'm tired of being told what I can do and what I can't do. I'm tired of being bossed around. I'm tired of being told to reign it in, be careful, don't use your powers. I'm tired of having this secret. I'm done. Alright? Done."

Merlin has one hand on the doorknob when Gaius speaks, his voice deadly serious. "If you walk out that door you will leave London and you will never return.”

Merlin grips the brass tightly in his hand, feeling it warm until it is burning his skin. His anger has caused him to lose control. Leaning his forehead against the door he breathes deeply until he has calmed down, just like his mother taught him. It takes longer than he'd like.

He weighs his options. If he leaves now he'll be free of these rules, free of the crippling weight of his apparent destiny. No one knows he’s The Dragon Lord yet. Maybe no one would ever need to know? If he kept himself well enough hidden maybe he could really escape. The possibility is extremely tempting, and all of a sudden Merlin sympathises with his father for taking Hunith and Merlin away to Ealdor. Somewhere quiet and isolated is exactly what Merlin needs, somewhere he can be himself and no one will care. In his hand the doorknob turns, Merlin preparing to open the door and walk away. 

But then a perfectly clear vision of Arthur's face floats into his mind. Arthur with the desperate, hungry look he sometimes gets. Arthur standing millimeters away, his breath on Merlin's face. Leaving now would mean never seeing Arthur again.

Because that’s the truth of the situation. If Merlin leaves London now there would be no reason, no reason at all, that he and Arthur would ever meet again.

Merlin can feel tears of frustration leaking out beneath his closed eyelids, but he does not wipe them away as he turns back to Gaius, defeated. He will stay. He will follow Gaius's strict rules. He will be a good boy. 

For now. Until he can ascertain what that look in Arthur's eyes means exactly. 

*

Merlin sits draped over an armchair, his head hanging towards the floor, eyes closed, listening to his music too loudly. He feels utterly wretched, like a naughty school kid who'd been brought to the headmaster's office and thoroughly scolded. For whatever reason he had deluded himself into thinking that he could fly under the radar with his trip to Fort William. The last two hours spent being shouted at by Gaius told a completely different story.

He isn't thinking about the trouble he's in, nor about the trouble Will might be in if the truth comes to light. All he can think about is how much simpler his life would have been if he'd never come to London in the first place. He'd never have known he was The Dragon Lord. He'd never have known about his destiny.

He could have happily stayed in Ealdor and been  _ just _ Merlin.

He would never have fallen for Prince Arthur.

Merlin lets out the biggest sigh he's capable of.

“Are you melodramatically listening to the Frozen soundtrack?” 

“Shit!” Merlin exclaims, launching himself clumsily out of the chair and pressing stop on his phone’s mp3 player. “No.”

“Yes you were.” Lance says, smiling evilly, “I could hear it.”

“Shit.” Merlin repeats, knowing it would be foolish to argue.

“It must be bad if you're listening to Disney.” Lance says, starting to laugh.

“It is.” Merlin admits sadly, wrapping his headphones around his phone and tucking them into his back pocket.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Lance asks, and Merlin can tell that he is genuinely worried. Merlin is overcome with a strange desire to come clean, but stops himself just in time. Confessing how complicated his life has suddenly become to Lancelot, best friend of Arthur, would be a terrible idea. 

“Really, really no.” 

“Fair enough. Is Gwen around?” Lance asks, nodding towards her room.

“No, I've not seen her.” Merlin says.

“Could you pass on a message? We were meant to be spending the afternoon together, but Arthur needs me, so I'm going to have to reschedule.” Merlin nods, assuring Lance that the message will get delivered.

“Oh, hey, actually, we're just headed out to play football, did you want to come?” Lance says, turning back at the doorway. “It will definitely be better than listening to ‘Let It Go’ at top volume, and I know Arthur was looking forward to seeing you play.”

_ Arthur was what _ ? Merlin tries not to let his shock show on his face. 

“Lance, and I can’t stress this enough, playing football with you lot would possibly be the  _ worst _ thing I could do right now.” Merlin says, quite honestly.

“Right.” Lance says, perhaps sensing that he shouldn't question Merlin’s response.  “See you around, then?”

“Aye. See ya.” Merlin says, seeing Lance to the doorway and then returning to collapse back into his armchair. Before he even has a chance to turn his music on again, Gwen comes bursting through the door.

"Thank God you’re here, Merlin! I thought I'd never see you again! What the bloody hell was that all about? Gaius looked so angry I thought you'd been fired, at least, if not hung."

“Lance was here looking for you. Said he’s not available this afternoon and he’s sorry. Something about playing football with Arthur.”

“Lance was? What?” Gwen asks, the colour draining out of her face.

“Relax. I know about the two of you. He told me last night at the football. He also told me that you’re intent on keeping this a secret, though God only knows why…” Merlin says, still not moving from his armchair.

“OK, fine, you know about me and Lance. That doesn’t mean you get to change the subject on me.” Gwen says, hands on her hips. “What the hell is going on, Merlin? And don’t bother giving me any of this ‘I’m fine’ bullshit, because I know you’re not. So, you’re going to start talking to me or, or, or...” But apparently Gwen can’t think of anything bad enough to threaten him with, because she just stares at him with her eyes flashing. Merlin gets out of the chair and raises his hands in surrender.

"Alright. Stop stuttering. I'll talk. I need coffee first, though, so let’s walk  _ and _ talk."

Gwen grabs her handbag and jacket and is waiting by the exit faster than Merlin could think possible. Keeping his voice down, Merlin explains about Gaius and the argument they had. A few minutes later they depart the staff canteen, both carrying steaming cups of properly disgusting coffee. 

"So he's going to let you stay?" Gwen asks, casually interlacing her fingers with his. She's freezing. In her hurry to leave she seems to have forgotten her gloves and scarf. Merlin gently pushes his magic through his hand into hers, warming her immediately. She smiles at him and walks the next few steps with her head on his shoulder. 

"For now. We agreed that I need to be more careful.” Merlin shakes his head, feeling sad. “What Gaius doesn’t understand is I was  _ always  _ going to help Will, and I always would. I don’t think Gaius has a brother, or anyone like a brother, so he doesn’t understand."

Gwen looks at Merlin like she wants to disagree with him, but she doesn’t. Maybe she can tell he is too tired to argue.

They walk a few steps in silence, crushing autumn leaves beneath their feet. It's a beautiful late November afternoon and the sun is shining, which is something of a novelty for Merlin as the sun so rarely shines in Scotland in November. Or the rest of the year for that matter. 

"So, this McTavish guy." Gwen says, with the air of someone who knows she's broaching a touchy subject. "What's the story there?"

Merlin thinks about his answer for a very long time, walking hand in hand with Gwen, thinking of how Gwen's incredible kindness and spirit helped lift him out of his soul-destroying depression after he arrived in London. It's hard for Merlin to talk about McTavish for some reason. He supposed that growing up in Ealdor made McTavish seem like a bigger man than he is - a bigger threat. He had just seemed so  _ everywhere _ . Coming to London has helped Merlin understand that McTavish is a small fish in a tiny pond, but the  _ memory _ of him is still threatening. 

"He's the biggest landowner up our way and he thinks it makes him untouchable. His whole family walk around like royalty.” Merlin laughs here, casting his eye over the gardens at Buckingham Palace and thinking how little like royalty McTavish actually is. “Will and I worked for him forever. The only jobs going, really, as the McTavishes own more than half the village."

After Merlin gets started the words seem to pour out of him as though someone's unstoppered a drain.

"He drinks too much, McTavish, and he gets violent, sometimes." Merlin reconsiders, then says, "Rarely.” After which he reconsiders and reverts to, “Sometimes.”

“Violent how?” Gwen asks, her voice incredibly gentle. 

"Well, he never... he never got to me. Not really. He tried, oh did he try. But I'm uniquely equipped to protect myself, and I always have been." Merlin pauses, wiggling his fingers significantly. “Will, though, he... I mean, I tried. I tried so hard to stop him, but I can't be everywhere all at once."

Merlin looks up, surprised to see that they are sitting on a bench beneath an oak tree that has gone brilliantly yellow with the change of season.

"Merlin, it's not your job to protect everyone."

"Will isn't ' _ everyone _ '. He's Will." If there were people milling about, Merlin would be embarrassed by his emotions. Thankfully, there aren't many people in the grounds this afternoon. Off in the middle distance a few people are kicking a football about. Merlin wipes his eyes and squeezes the bridge of his nose, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the pain of memory. Gwen puts her hand on his knee reassuringly.

"I take it going to the police wasn't an option?"

"It wasn't something we would have ever considered, if I'm honest. They'd’ve believed us if they'd ever met him, but there wouldn't be much they could do. They're all in his pocket, I'm sure." Merlin pauses and watches as one of the football players gets spectacularly tackled. Gwen follows his gaze and flinches sympathetically as the fallen player staggers back to his feet.

"Anyway," Merlin continues, clearing his throat, "it is what it is. Will and I weren’t the only ones, he has attacked or fought with or threatened most of the village, but, again, there’s not much anyone can do.”

Gwen rests her head on his shoulder again, and Merlin can feel some of her strength seeping into him, warming him like he had warmed her hands earlier. 

Neither of them speak for a long time. The football match seems to have disintegrated into a brawl. Merlin vaguely considers going to see if everyone is okay, but before he can bring his exhausted body to obey the notions of his overactive brain, the man who started the fight breaks away and storms towards the Palace.

"So what happened to Will, then?" Gwen asks, bringing Merlin's attention back to their own conversation.

"McTavish hit him with his car. Ran him over. His legs were shattered."

"What? Is Will...is he going to be okay?" Gwen looks genuinely horrified.

"He is now." Merlin says, waggling his fingers again.

"Oh. So you fixed him?"

"I fixed his legs." Merlin clarifies, "I tried to get him to come back with me but he won't."

"Why not? I'm sure Gaius would find him something to do."

"That's what I said, but... Well, his parents died when he was young and Isa and Jack raised him. They've been relying on him to take over at the bar at the hotel when he's old enough. He would never let them down, so he's staying."

"I guess that seems like a good reason. What is he going to do about McTavish?”

“Nothing.” Merlin says, hating saying it. “But, I’ll be back in April, and then it won’t be so bad. I can help Will, and we can look after each other, like always.”

“So you’re still planning on leaving us?” Gwen says, her voice suddenly sad. Merlin holds her hand tighter and leans his head on her shoulder. 

“Aye. After my birthday.”

They’re quiet for a long while. The man who had stormed away towards the Palace has come back to the group and is now shaking everyone’s hands. The person he’d tackled hugs him briefly and they all begin to play again. Merlin derives a certain pleasure from watching them.

“Why was Gaius so angry with you, though?” Gwen asks, her voice lighter.

"Will's disappearance from the hospital didn't go unnoticed."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Merlin looks up into the sunlight through the canopy of leaves. He tries to seal the image into his memory so he can draw it later. It really is a beautiful day.

“What has he said?” Gwen continues.

“The usual. I mustn't do magic no matter what happens to me or my loved ones, under pain of death.”

“I don’t understand, though, because no one cares if you’re a wizard. Magic is  _ legal _ .” Gwen shakes her head.

“Well, he’s explained a few times, so I guess I understand where he’s coming from. Basically he was raised in a time when magic was illegal and he’s worried that, though the laws have changed, people's opinions and fears may not have, so he’s just asking me to be careful.”  _ Also,  _ Merlin thinks, _ he might  _ just _ suspect that I'm the Dragon Lord and he doesn't really want me to be beheaded... _

“I guess that makes sense.” Gwen admits. 

“Well, I figure he is my boss, so I pretty much have to follow his command.”

There's another long silence. When they rise from the bench, Gwen has to practically drag Merlin to a standing position before they start walking hand in hand down a path away from the Palace. In the distance the group of men are still playing football, though it looks more like a casual kick about than an actual game. 

“Can we talk about Lance now?” Merlin says, making sure to check that there’s no one close enough to overhear him. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t think he’d want people to know, that’s all.” Gwen says sheepishly.

"That's funny, because he told me that  _ you're _ the one demanding it be kept a secret."

Gwen bites her bottom lip, her eyes scrunched. 

"Gwen, listen, he's obviously taken with you. I think if it were up to him he'd hire skywriters."

"Stop! Don't tease me, Merlin." Now Gwen looks around as though afraid of being overheard.

"I'm serious."

"Stop. Please, Merlin." Gwen buries her face in her hands, shaking her head. When she looks back at Merlin she looks sad and terrified. "I really like him, Merls. And I don't want anyone to know because then it might be in the papers and when it's over I'll have to face everyone again and I can't stand it.

“When it's over?” Merlin asks.

“Yes, when it's over. It can't last, Merlin. I mean, I know he's just, oh, I don't know, sowing his wild oats or whatever."

"Ohhh! There's been sowing then, has there?" Merlin teases, unable to help himself. Gwen turns her face away, blushing. Merlin, taking pity on her, goes back to being serious. "Are you happy?"

Gwen nods at him very sincerely, the smile splitting her face. Merlin scoops her up into a very enthusiastic hug. In that moment he's very glad he had the ability to alter the laws of physics because, in his exhausted state he would struggle to lift a sheet of paper let alone a grown woman.

"I really am." Gwen says after Merlin sets her back on the ground. "I'm trying hard not to be too happy, because I know this can't last. But I'm enjoying it while I can."

Merlin smiles at her, grasping her hand again as they walk along. "I'm very happy for you, Gwen. I like him. Tell me more, though, how did it happen?"

"Um, well it wasn't long after we met him, actually. I ran into him at an event with Morgana. He took me aside and said could we have coffee sometime. So I said yes and that's about it."

Merlin is about to say he can't believe that's the  _ whole _ story when she continues without his prompting. 

"It was actually really sweet because he turned up at my Dad's house last week. Said he'd been thinking of me and decided to visit. My Dad really seems to like him. Though he did make him sleep on the couch!" Gwen laughs, her whole body lighting up with joy at the memory. Merlin, who can appreciate a good love story even if he's not in it, turns her to face him and pulls her into a big hug, then kisses her cheek. 

"I'm honestly delighted. I really like him, Gwen. He's well fit, and he might be the nicest bloke I’ve ever met. Although I did warn him not to dick you around." Merlin says, smiling at the memory.

"You didn't!" Gwen actually goes pale and puts a hand over her mouth, mortified.

"Aye, I did. And I meant it, too. Not sure he believed me, mind, but that may be a good thing in the end."

Gwen giggles despite herself. 

"Enough about me." Gwen says, clearly desperate to change the subject away from anything Merlin can tease her about, "Now, Arthur. I was gone almost two weeks and you panic texted me four times." Gwen says, unfortunately not exaggerating. "Tell me what the hell is what going on with you and Arthur."

They walk along the winding paths of the grounds as Merlin fills her in on all the completely idiotic things he's been up to in her absence. They haven't had a chance to catch up properly yet since Merlin ran off to Scotland just after Gwen returned from Europe. He doesn't go into too much detail about the almost kiss in the bathroom at the football yesterday because he can't stand to think about it.

"So, yeah. I've been a complete arsehole." Merlin finishes. "He's been perfect, basically, all nice and friendly. I think it's his way of thanking me for what I did. Saving his life, you know? Then I have to go and be all stupid." They stop on a bridge, leaning over to look at the water below. "I can't help it, though. When I'm around him, my brain doesn't exactly have dibs on the blood supply, if you know what I mean."

"I don't know, though." Gwen says, looking out over the grounds with a very thoughtful expression. "He's not exactly the type to do something he doesn't want to do, is he? So, he must enjoy spending time with you, at the very least."

"God, Gwen, don't encourage me! You're supposed to be the level-headed one here! Christ!" Merlin bends and lowers his head between his shoulder blades. If Gwen wasn't even going to help try to stop him being an idiot, there was no hope for him at all.

"Alright. You're right. I'm sorry. You need to forget all this nonsense with Arthur. Move on." Gwen says, resting her hand on Merlin's back between his shoulders. Merlin stands up straight again. "What you need is to find someone to take your mind off Arthur." Gwen says. 

"What I need," Merlin says, "is to get laid."

"That's what I said!" Gwen giggles. They both look out over the grounds again as though the person Merlin should be shagging is out there. The group of guys has dispersed, and they are alone except for a man jogging very slowly in the distance. "What about Gwaine? He seems keen."

"Oh, aye, he is at that." Merlin remembers Gwaine's wandering hands and the feel of his body pressed against him in the stairwell. It hadn't been unpleasant. "But I can't."

"You're going to say something stupid here like if you shag Gwaine, Arthur would never shag you, right?"

Merlin doesn't answer, which is an answer in itself. He can tell what Arthur thinks of Gwaine, he's seen the looks. If Merlin were to get involved with Gwaine on any level, it seems like something Arthur would never forgive him for. Besides that, he'd like to think that he's got better options. 

"Tell you what, why don't we go out at the weekend? Get Tristan and Isolde and Freya, you know, the usuals. We'll go out Friday and we won't come home until Merlin gets his hole."

Merlin chokes, laughing at Gwen's usage of a vulgar Scottish saying (she'd even imitated his accent), but he can see nothing to laugh at in her actual plan.

"Now that," Merlin says, smiling and linking arms with her for the walk back to the Palace, "Is an idea I can get behind."

*

Arthur jogs very slowly around the grounds on his own, testing his legs. Though it is a beautiful afternoon Arthur is barely even able to appreciate it because his mind is full of Gwen and Merlin. 

Arthur had been here playing football with his friends, deliberately trying to take his mind off Merlin, and Merlin and Gwen had shown up and started walking around holding hands and kissing. 

It made Arthur feel sick just thinking about it. At least Gwaine had accepted his apology for the truly terrible tackle. At least his friends believed (or said they believed) Arthur's hangover excuse. At least now that he is jogging it's harder to stare at the intersection of Gwen's hand intertwined with Merlin's. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To "get your hole " means to have sex, usually in regards to a one night fling.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20 - In which Merlin gets an unwanted phone call regarding Dragon Lords, finally meets Nimueh, and receives interesting correspondence from Arthur, and Arthur attempts to resist the holiday spirit as December rolls over the Palace.
> 
> There are no chapter specific tags.

**Chapter 20**

_ Arthur runs through a dense forest with someone slung over his shoulder. He is labouring under the weight of his burden and, after a while, he must stop and set the man down. As Arthur lowers him onto the ground, being careful not to let his head hit the earth, he realises that the man is Merlin. He is unconscious and very pale. There is blood seeping from a side wound and Arthur panics, lifting Merlin’s tunic to see a wound in his side which is obviously fatal.  _

_ Deciding he hasn’t time to stop, even to save his strength, Arthur lifts Merlin back onto his shoulder and continues running. He must save Merlin. Merlin must not die. _

Arthur comes to consciousness suddenly, clutching the sheets on his bed. As he blinks in the dim light of his room he tries to dispel the lingering feelings of loss and helplessness which have settled into his soul from the dream. The bed next to him is empty, as always, but for a fleeting second Arthur had been sure he would find Merlin there. 

Merlin alive and well and warm and sleeping soundly beside Arthur, oblivious to the perils of Arthur’s dreams. 

But Arthur is alone.

Around him the empty room feels a lot bigger than usual.

*

"Hello Gwaine?" A familiar voice comes down the phone line. 

Merlin drops the sandwich he's not really eating and adopts his most convincing English accent. "Yes, hello Professor." 

"Call me Geoffrey, please, Gwaine. I’m calling because I've found something that might be of interest to you. I've sent you a scan via email, however, I'll just touch on a few points here if I may."

"Yes, of..."

"I followed your suggestion," the professor says, not letting Merlin speak, "and looked into the examples from the fourteenth century. You're quite right in assuming they are the same individual."

Merlin's heart sinks. He toys with the edges of his bread, feeling slightly sick. He had thought at first, about a week ago, that he had finally discovered an instance where a Dragon Lord had managed to keep his identity secret, but a few pages further in the same text he had encountered a very lively description of someone being skinned alive and had a nagging sense they were the same person. A fact which has now seemingly been confirmed.

"He managed to remain hidden for a few decades but was ultimately discovered when, in a fit of gallantry, he saved an infant from drowning. Once he had revealed his powers it came to light that he was a Dragon Lord he was captured and, as you have already discovered, punished soundly before being killed." There is a pause during which Merlin can hear the rustling of papers. "The wood cuttings are very detailed, and there is more than one account of the torture which means, of course, that it was done publicly."

Merlin clears his throat. He can't help but conjure an image of the courtyard of Buckingham Palace thronged with curious onlookers as he is publicly denounced and beheaded. In this disturbing vision, which visits Merlin frequently, Arthur sits proudly beside his father, not batting an eyelid as the executioner lets loose the axe.

The image is, thankfully, completely baseless, but he cannot shrug off the lingering fear and uncertainty it deposits in his soul.

"So that brings our total to forty two." Merlin says, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Forty four," the professor kindly corrects him, "if you include the two infants whose powers were never tested; the two who were killed simply because their fathers were proven to be Dragon Lords." He continues, unaware that his words are edging Merlin towards the brink of tears.

"Listen, Professor," Merlin says, finally able to interrupt, "I'm afraid I have to run. Lecture. Thank you for the information."

"Can we expect you back in the Archives?"

"No. I believe I have exhausted the information available to me there. I cannot thank you enough for your assistance, however."

"Certainly. It has been a pleasure. Do keep in touch should you discover anything unique, will you?"

"Of course." Merlin agrees, then, exchanging a final litany of posh English pleasantries, he eventually manages to disengage.

Merlin rises from his table in the darkest corner of the tiny pub, tosses a few pound coins down beside his untouched lunch, shoulders his bag and slinks out into the foggy alleyway.

He takes a second to get his bearings and decides that the two mile walk back to the Palace is preferable, in his current mood, to navigating the Underground. His wanderings through London have led him to further flung corners than he had originally anticipated, but he has a strong desire to not be recognised anywhere, so he keeps moving outwards around the city, never stopping in the same place twice. His research into Dragon Lords has, apparently, made him paranoid.

Merlin meanders back to the Palace, his mind racing, taking a twisting route and having to turn back more than once because he has lost his way. Gaius had agreed, weeks ago, to let Merlin pursue his own branch of research which, thankfully, is well beyond Gaius’s technological understanding. As long as Merlin is in the office sometimes and reaches the deadlines he and Gaius have agreed upon, Gaius mainly just lets Merlin come and go as he pleases. Which means that Merlin is spending a lot of long evenings cloistered in Gaius’s office with coding manuals and a lot of long days wandering the city, trying to distract himself from his apparent destiny.

Normally these wanders through London are pleasant, but not today. The city passes by Merlin as though he were in a moving car rather than out amongst the people. The conversation with the Professor has thoroughly depressed him. Merlin was so sure that he finally found someone who actively escaped the Dragon Lord destiny; he had been planning his entire future around this one example - he would serve out his time in London until he had saved the money necessary to move back to Ealdor, probably around his birthday in April, and after that he would spend the rest of his life resolutely not performing magic and no one would track him down and brutally murder him. Now it seems that even that prospect is lost to him. 

Imagine being skinned alive for saving an infant. Merlin wonders briefly whether he would save the life and expose himself or let the child die and remain anonymous, then he shakes his head stupidly. Of course he would save the infant. He would save anyone if he could, and that is exactly the problem. 

It has renewed his desire not to do magic, at least, and though Gaius doesn’t know the reasons for that he does seem grateful.

The gray fog sitting low over the city matches Merlin's increasingly gray mood. To distract himself from his own serpentine thoughts he plugs in his headphones and plays the list Arthur had compiled for Morgana's competition. Unfortunately the first song that is queued up is Aidan Moffat's "[The Sadness In Your Life Will Slowly Fade](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UCmjAJR_Jnw)" which does nothing to brighten his mood. In need of a further diversion he types out a text to Gwen before remembering that she's abroad somewhere fancy with Morgana. He's hardly seen Gwen since their long walk through the grounds almost two weeks ago, and they'd never managed to arrange a night out for Merlin to act upon his need to meet someone who won't one day be the leader of a country. Thinking of this, of course, causes him to think of Arthur and for a brief moment he considers ringing Arthur, maybe suggesting another swim? Or just a chat? But after a few failed attempts at a mental conversation with the heir to the throne, Merlin decides not to bother. Although making a complete cock of himself in front of royalty is probably the sort of diversion he’s looking for, he's not sure he's up to it just now. 

Tristan, Issy and Freya all reject his plan to go for drinks, all of them citing lack of funds. He even sends a desperate text to Morgause, but she replies that she’s off with Morgana, too.

The desire to text or call Arthur grows stronger and stronger and, in the end, to stop himself from going through with that desire Merlin returns to his desk in Gaius’s office and settles himself down behind a stack of coding manuals. The deadline he's agreed with Gaius is fast approaching, so he may as well try to get some work done. 

*

December rolls over the Palace like a tidal wave. Decorated trees appear in every corner, and greenery twined with fairy lights adorn every surface. Arthur, for his part, is trying his hardest not to be cheerful. Christmas means the staff (read: Merlin) are given time off. Christmas means Morgana jetting off to warmer climes with Morgause, and his father secreting off to the continent as he does every year. Christmas means Arthur will be alone at the Palace for over a week. 

So he can't really help himself as he mopes around heartily glaring at each glinting bauble.

Although, Arthur has been so busy with coursework nearing the end of the year that he's become a practical recluse. Perhaps a few Christmas parties are exactly what he needs. He'll have a few drinks, have a few laughs, watch his friends cop off with people while he slopes off alone and wishing he could be with Merlin.

No, perhaps a Christmas party is exactly what Arthur  _ does not _ need.

It is therefore with heavy heart that Arthur regards the Christmas party invitation thrust into his hand by a flustered but determined looking Morgana. She's obviously in a rush, breathing heavily, with a pink flush on her cheeks.

"You're coming, dear cousin, so don't bother grasping for excuses." Morgana smiles at him, twisting her long hair up off her neck and fanning herself. "It'll be fun. Presents! Drinks! Games! Everyone's coming - including you."

"Presents?" Arthur asks, hoping Morgana catches his agonised tone.

"Yes, and don't be stingy! Happy Christmas!" Morgana lunges forward and kisses him on the cheek and Arthur watches her half jog, half skip down the corridor. Presents. Damn.

 

*

Merlin is meeting with Gaius, Nimueh and Morgause in half an hour. He's in a state of near panic. When he'd told Gaius he'd be ready before Christmas, somehow he hadn't thought he might need to actually  _ be _ ready. However, the day has come and he is going to be showcasing his software, ready or not. It was lunch time yesterday when Gaius mentioned that Nimueh would be attending the meeting as well, which kicked Merlin into overload. It made it seem more real that it wasn't just him and Gaius. If he failed in front of Nimueh, it would really feel like failing.

So Merlin spends the last half hour before the meeting checking and double checking the lines of code that have been bothering him the most. The result of this is that by the time Nimueh and Morgause arrive, Merlin is wound so tightly he barely spares a minute for a rushed introduction. He gets the feeling that Nimueh fancies herself as much more important than that, but she condescends to continue with the trial run - about which she is undoubtedly curious.

Merlin, gaining a bit of strength from the encouraging smile on Gaius's face, begins to explain the programme he has developed. Turning to one of the ancient texts on his desk he opens it at random and scans the page with his handheld scanner. 

He holds his breath for a few seconds while the image loads on his screen. Merlin can't help but smile when he catches the look of awe on Gaius's face, the first time he'd demonstrated this scanner with Gaius, Gaius had mumbled something like "and they call what I do magic...".

No one speaks, though Nimueh makes a few impatient noises as she's waiting. Merlin can feel a slight panic welling inside him for a few moments before, with a suddenness that makes Gaius jump slightly, the computer makes a loud ding and a window pops up on Merlin's second screen. Merlin, feeling immense relief, launches into his rehearsed speech.

"Now, you'll see here that what the programme has done is isolate the uncommon terminology. Hellebore, newt, dragon spleen, etc. It has then cross-referenced these terms with previously scanned and categorised documents to determine that this particular item is most likely a recipe for a potion intended to cause a state of wakefulness."

Gaius scans the document quickly, muttering the ingredients aloud, then nods once to confirm the computer's accuracy.

"This recipe," Merlin continues, "will now be translated to modern English." Merlin clicks a button and waits the requisite time for the programme to work before navigating to the screen he needs to show them next. "As you can see here, any word unrecognised by the programme is highlighted and this, here, shows you how many corrections need to be made on the document before it can be stored to the database. This is your chance to check against the original and make sure they meant Dragon spleen and not Dragon wee." 

Morgause lets out a small giggle before a look from Nimueh silences her.

"The search function works across whole documents. So, for instance, if you are looking for any spell or potion designed to cause wakefulness all you need to do is type in 'awake' or 'sleep' and it will show you a list, here, of all relevant spells or potions. Same with ingredients."

There are a few long moments of silence while Nimueh uses the mouse to navigate the software herself. Behind her both Gaius and Morgause are giving Merlin kind, reassuring smiles. He is just so glad the programme works like it should that he could care less whether it is Nimueh or the queen of the goddamned universe inspecting his work.

Nimueh sets the mouse aside and takes a step back from the computer. She looks very subtly impressed.

"What is the intended target audience?" She asks, her voice impassive.

"Anybody with a computer or a scanner." Merlin says with a smile.

Nimueh stiffens. "Even non-magic users?"

"Aye." Merlin says, unable to keep the defiance out of his voice. Nimueh and Morgause, of course, do not know that Merlin has magic. "I thought we could free source it for a trial period, see how many new entries appear."

"Free source?" Nimueh asks, directing her question at Gaius, which almost makes Merlin laugh out loud. Gaius would no sooner have know that term as have known how to fly.

"It means making the programme available for free download to anyone in the world." Morgause explains. Merlin may be imagining it, but she sounds rather excited.

"Including non-magic users?"

"Well, yes. There would be no way of screening people prior to download." Nimueh looks supremely uncomfortable, but Merlin steamrollers on. "But just think about it. Think about how many people out there have magical texts in their possession! Whether they bought them to make themselves look cool or whether they are holding on to a family heirloom. All of that knowledge is lost to us right now. My software could change that. We could build a central database for magic research across the entire globe."

Nimueh doesn't look convinced, but Merlin can't bring himself to care. The software is his. The project is his. He needs neither Nimueh's approval nor her blessing, Gaius had invited her mainly to make her feel included.

"I think it's excellent." Gaius says, smiling indulgently at Merlin. Merlin feels himself swelling with pride.

"It would make my life a lot easier." Morgause says, looking slightly terrified at what Nimueh might think of her speaking out. "Being able to look things up like that. Almost like Google for magic. I love it."

Merlin smiles at her, and she drops him half a wink. All in all, he thinks, as Nimueh and Gaius move off to talk quietly together, it hadn't been a bad trial. Not bad at all.

*

Arthur curses Morgana to the depths of hell no less than seventeen times a minute all afternoon. Presents! It was all well and good handing Arthur the guest list and telling him he's expected to provide presents for everyone, but what the hell was he going to get for Merlin? The crystal pendants have been ordered for the ladies that Arthur doesn't really know, as have the engraved hip flasks for the men. He'd shopped for his inner circle weeks ago, but that didn't get him any closer to figuring out what gift to give Merlin.

What could Arthur possibly give him that says  _ “I care” _ without also saying  _ “I'm secretly in love with you and I'll do anything to have you up to, and most likely including, murder” _ ?

He had made one purchase for Merlin, but he thought it was probably going too far, and it certainly wasn't something he wanted to give Merlin in a room full of people, so that is out.

In the end he decides to make a playlist. It says  _ “I put a lot of thought into this” _ , but it isn't expensive so Merlin won't feel the need to reciprocate. He spends over an hour choosing and arranging the songs, and he's generally quite pleased with himself until Gwaine shows up, takes one look at the list and asks Arthur who he's so desperate to shag.

“This is a Fuck Me list, mate.” Gwaine teases, naming some of the songs and laughing heartily. “Each one of these songs are shagging songs!”

In the end Arthur decides not to punch Gwaine in the face, but he does scrap the playlist. Which means that Merlin will be the only person at the entire fucking party who hasn't got a gift from Arthur.

_ Good. Well done. Fabulous. _

_ Prick. _

*

When Merlin wakes up on Saturday morning and realises he's got nearly two weeks' holiday ahead of him he stretches lazily and takes his time coming to. There's nothing so comfortable as your bed when you've nothing else to do. 

That is, of course, assuming that no one starts knocking on your door at half eight in the bloody morning.

"Buggering," Merlin mutters as he rolls out of bed and struggles, zombie like, towards the door, "Bastarding," Merlin fumbles with his bedroom doorknob. It's not even as though Gwen could answer it because she's been sequestered by Morgana for an indeterminate length of time prior to tonight’s party. "Fuck." Merlin curses, finally managing to wrench the suite door open. 

There is no one in the corridor. Merlin looks around, confused, before noticing the envelope on the floor at his feet.

Merlin picks up the letter and opens it. It's from Arthur. Merlin's heart races as he returns to his suite and closes the door behind him. He appears in the corridor roughly thirty seconds later after having read the first sentence of Arthur's letter. 

Not caring one bit for the early hour, nor the fact that he'd gone to sleep in (and was therefore still wearing) an old pair of boxers and what was quite possibly one of Gwen's t-shirts, he almost sprints to Arthur's chambers.

Deciding at the last possible second that anger isn't going to solve this one, Merlin stops himself from pounding on the door, but it's a very close thing. By the time Arthur answers the polite knocking, all the anger has left Merlin anyway, and he feels so heart sore he might breakdown.

"Merlin!" Arthur seems genuinely surprised and not entirely displeased to see him. Merlin clutches the letter in his hand, forcing himself to look directly at Arthur.

A million possible scenarios run through his mind, what he could say to make Arthur agree to his plans, and each one is valid and worth mentioning. But all Merlin can manage is a strangled, "Please, don't." After which he has to swallow hard to stop himself from crying. 

"Don't what?" Arthur asks, looking terrified at Merlin's behaviour. It couldn't be that often that Arthur has to deal with over emotional employees, after all. "Merlin, what's wrong?"

Merlin swallows again, blinking hard, determined to say everything he needs to. He locks eyes with Arthur. "Please don't make me spend Christmas here." There is a brief moment where Merlin watches Arthur's eyebrows raise in confusion, then Merlin continues, "Alone." The word almost echoes between them, carrying with it all of Merlin's desperate solitude.

"I don't know what you're..."

"Please, Arthur, it's hard enough that is my first Christmas after my Mum..."

"Merlin, stop." Arthur actually grabs Merlin's shoulders, his fingers not exactly gentle. "I don't know what you're on about. I'm not asking you to stay here over Christmas. Gaius said you were returning to Scotland tomorrow. What's going on?"

Merlin brandishes the crumpled letter which Arthur takes from him and reads. After which he has what seems to Merlin like an entire conversation to himself. "I didn't write this. Father must have. But why? Unless... But that's so stupid!"

Arthur paces back and forth a few times then he turns to Merlin.

"Look, I'm sorry, Merlin. I think my father must have wanted you to stay here. To look out for me? Or something, I don't know. Anyway, it's stupid. You're on holiday and I can look after myself."

While Merlin silently doubts this, he can't help but feel relieved. He realises now what an idiot he must seem. The signature on the letter, which he takes back from Arthur and looks at more closely, isn't even a real signature. It's printed directly on the paper. Merlin feels incredibly stupid, and desperate to leave not only Arthur's presence, but the whole of England. Immediately.

"Right. Well, cheers. Sorry to have disturbed you." Merlin goes to leave but Arthur reaches out and grabs his forearm, his touch a lot gentler now.

"Listen, Merlin, I know it's hard." Arthur's voice is so soft it makes Merlin look up, startled. "Your Mum, I mean." 

Merlin stiffens, really, really not wanting to talk about it. Arthur doesn't miss this, and his whole body relaxes sympathetically. 

"I mean, if you ever wanted someone to talk to about it, about her. I'm here, I guess, is what I wanted to say. To talk. If you wanted."

Merlin looks at Arthur, really looks at him, and sees the mirror image of his own indescribable pain in Arthur’s deep blue eyes. Arthur, of course, has lost his mother, too. It's easy to forget that Arthur is a real, actual human being, and not just The Future King, even though Merlin has known him for months now. 

Merlin turns his arm slightly and grasps Arthur's hand in his. He thinks of the countless pages in his sketchpad devoted to this very image, but he feels neither triumph nor lust, but, instead, an incredible fondness which pulls through him like a warm drink on a chill night. He closes his eyes and let's his memory flood with images of his mother, taking strength from the feel of Arthur's skin against his. 

After a moment he opens his eyes again, feeling the dampness of escaped tears on his eyelashes. "I can't. Not yet. But thank you for offering."

*

"What were you even thinking?" Arthur storms at his father, not caring for the fact that he's interrupting Uther's breakfast.

"Good morning to you as well, son." Uther says with infuriating calm. Arthur wants to strangle him.

"Why would you ask Merlin, of all people, to remain in London over the holidays? Do you honestly have so little faith in my ability to look after myself? He saved my life one time and it was an accident. I'm perfectly capable of staying out of trouble without his assistance, thank you very much."

By the end of his rant Arthur is pacing his father's study, waving his arms in the air like a lunatic. Uther does not show any signs that Arthur has said more than "hello" to him. That practiced calm is something Arthur has never been able to carry off.

"While I do enjoy your visits, son, I must tell you that I have no idea what you are talking about. I have not sent any letters, nor would I. I know you are capable of looking after yourself, certainly much more capable than this Merlin boy." 

Arthur, deflated, lowers himself into one of the chairs, staring at the letter. "But, if you didn't, then who?"

"I am sure I have no idea." Uther says, drinking his tea. "Now, while you are here we may as well discuss the holidays. I am going to Italy with Gaius and Nimueh to conduct some research. Your cousin is flitting off to the sunshine with her crowd. You, I suppose will be remaining in London for the duration?"

"Yes, father."

"Good. Have a nice time." Uther says, turning a page of his newspaper.

"You, too, father."

"I shall." 

Arthur rises from the seat and goes to leave.

"Oh, and Arthur, I hope you have an enjoyable time at Morgana's party this evening."

Arthur leaves his father's study, intending to go straight to Gaius with the letter and the mystery of who might have sent it, then he decides it must have been a simple administrative error and returns to his rooms instead. 

In an attempt to not spend the entire day remembering the feel of Merlin's hand in his, nor the fact that Merlin had clearly,  _ clearly _ been wearing one of Gwen's shirts when he'd shown up at Arthur's door, Arthur begins to get ready for the Christmas party very early, but his heart isn't in it. Though, Morgana’s parties are so unlike the rest of the tedious, restrained functions that Arthur is forced to attend this time of year that he might actually enjoy it. Plus, Merlin will be there and probably he'll be dressed in formal attire, so at least the night won't be a total loss. Despite himself, Arthur does finally begin to look forward to the party. He'll have a few drinks, shake a few hands, and maybe even kiss a few cheeks under mistletoe. In fact, by the time the evening rolls around he's feeling positively festive. And in all his last minute preparations for the party the letter is quite forgotten.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "To cop off with" means to snog and potentially shag someone you've just met, ie at a club or party.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 21 - In which Arthur and Merlin attend a Christmas Party.
> 
> Chapter Specific Tag: #hints of vague sexual agression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we even get started here are two "translations": 1) Ex-Hire means ex-rental, so a tux or kilt that has been leased out to people before then being sold. 2) Tablet (taiblet in Scots) is a medium-hard, sugary confection from Scotland. It's a sweet. Candy.

** Chapter 21 **

Merlin stands before the full length mirror, uncertain. His kilt, although the most expensive one he could afford, is lacking. He knows that Gwaine and the rest of them, and certainly Arthur, will be dressed in only the most expensive clothing. Even Gwen is wearing the dress Morgana bought her in Paris. Merlin, by contrast, is absolutely the only person going in an ex-hire.

"Merlin would you just come on already? We're going to be late!" Gwen floats into his room looking absolutely stunning. He takes a moment to exclaim over how incredible she looks, and her tone softens. "You look fine, Merlin. Very handsome." When he hesitates to believe her she continues. "Look, you got an invitation to this party from six people. Six. No one is going to give a toss what you look like, they're just going to be glad you're there. Now let's go!"

Merlin runs his hands through his hair and gives his reflection one last, terrified look before following Gwen out their room and down the corridor.

Their presents had been collected by George earlier in the afternoon and would be waiting under Morgana's Christmas tree. The gift giving was something else Merlin was anxious about, but it was too late to do anything about that now.

As they near the room where the party is being held Merlin heartily regrets not having a few stiff drinks while getting ready. Gwen must sense his reluctance because she tightens her grip on his arm as they turn to face the room and are greeted by Morgana.

*

When Merlin enters the room Arthur actually stops talking midway through a word. His kilt, though obviously not tailored to him, nevertheless looks incredible. Since Arthur had seen him that morning Merlin hadn't shaved and it suits him very well. He looks rugged, handsome and indescribably sexy. Arthur’s mind automatically replays the night of the accident when Merlin was pressed against his body, and the night at the swimming baths a few weeks ago when Merlin had sort of, almost, maybe kissed him. Arthur can't stop himself from remembering how those full lips felt pressed against his, however briefly, or imagining how Merlin's now unshaven jaw would feel rough against his skin.

Arthur takes a very long swallow of his champagne, then turns back to look at his companion. Lance, to whom Arthur had been speaking, is looking at the entrance to the room with an open jaw and a hungry look in his eyes. Arthur turns back and sees that, while Merlin and Gwen have moved into the room, a few other ladies have arrived, undoubtedly one of them has caught Lance’s eye. Arthur chuckles, nudging Lance with his shoulder, and the two of them laugh together before returning to their conversation.

The night continues in a series of canapes and glasses of bubbly. Arthur holds conversations with most of the people in the room, but pays none of them any real attention. Arthur does all he can to divert his attention away from the lone Scotsman, however, as hard as he is trying his eyes keep turning back to Merlin, as though by a magnetic force. Merlin makes his way around the room, chatting with everyone for a few moments only. He does not look entirely at ease - there is a tense lilt to his shoulders. He does, however, seem to be drinking his fair share and, even as Arthur surreptitiously watches him, he finishes what must be his fifth glass of champagne.

*

When Gwen offers to take their picture everyone squishes together and smiles wildly. Merlin laughs easily until Arthur appears beside him, the edge of his body pressed into Merlin, their hips touching, Arthur's arm around him, his hand gripping the top of Merlin's kilt and grasping for purchase as his momentum propels him closer still and the scent of him and the nearness of him and the _Arthurness_ of him overwhelms Merlin who forgets to breathe and nearly forgets to exist and then the picture is taken and Arthur is gone and there is nothing left where he stood except all of Merlin simply _wanting._  

*

Arthur watches Lancelot waltzing with Gwen, Lance leading expertly even though Gwen is clearly nervous. When Merlin steps in and asks, “May I have this dance?” Arthur tenses, but then Merlin waltzes off with Lancelot, and Arthur actually laughs out loud to see them dancing together, laughing, and Guinevere left, frowning, behind.

*

Merlin watches as Arthur dances with someone Merlin has never met, his hand politely just above her waist and Merlin's own skin burns where Arthur's fingers had touched him.

*

Arthur watches as Percival and Merlin bump into each other underneath a fat bunch of mistletoe and Merlin tries to apologise with a laugh and a nervous glance above them but Percy grabs Merlin's face in both of his massive hands and plants a kiss right on Merlin's lips, then trudges back into the crowd as though nothing has happened.

*

Merlin watches Gwen and Lancelot pretending to barely know each other as they nibble on miniature smoked salmon oatcakes and he wants to push them five feet sideways and force them to snog under the mistletoe.

*

Arthur seriously considers hanging out beneath mistletoe and just waiting for Merlin to walk by.

*

Merlin seriously considers hanging out beneath mistletoe and just waiting for Arthur to walk by.

*

“Father Christmas,” Morgana says, her excited voice carrying over the crowd easily, “Has arrived! Shall we gather at the tree and see what he has brought us?”

All of her guests obey, crowding between the circular tables near the tree. Gwen and Merlin gravitate towards each other and Arthur positions himself across from them so he can watch them without being obvious.

Morgana and Morgause play Father Christmas and hand out all of the parcels. Arthur’s pile is larger than some of the others, but nobody’s is larger than Morgana’s. As the brass band begins to play Christmas Carols in earnest, everyone opens their gifts. It makes a strange scene to see people in formal attire ripping into Christmas paper and laughing with delight at their gifts.

Arthur makes his way quickly through the parcels, making sure to keep the tags and cards together with the gifts they came with so that he may write the appropriate thank you letter when the holidays are over. He has received a new watch from Lance, a gift certificate for helicopter flying lessons from Gwaine and a bottle of very expensive aftershave from Leon. Morgana, as usual, has given him two tickets for his favourite summer music festival along with a note saying that he may only redeem it when they are there together. This is a tradition that has carried on for many years, and Arthur has grown very fond of their times there. His gift to Morgana, a gift certificate for her favorite restaurant in Paris, is likewise for the two of them to use together. He catches her eye across the crowd and nods once to her in appreciation.

“Nice one, Merlin!” Someone calls out, and Arthur’s eyes find Gwaine who is holding up what looks like a lurid tartan box of condoms.

“Aye, they’re whiskey flavoured an’ aw!” Merlin calls back, making every single person in the room burst out laughing, including Arthur.

When Arthur scans his few remaining unopened gifts and does not see any from Merlin his heart sinks. There _is_ a card addressed in what looks like Gwen’s handwriting, so Arthur opens it. It's a humorous card with a cartoon Santa. Arthur smiles, but stops suddenly when he sees that the card is signed by Gwen and Merlin both.

A joint card.

A card from both of them.

Together.

Once again the undeniable fact of their close relationship crashes into Arthur and stuns him momentarily. How many months has it been now and Arthur still feels like a jilted school boy every time he imagines the two of them together.

But, now is not the time. There are carols to be sung and games to be played. Arthur folds the card in half and pockets it.

After the parcels are opened, everyone mingles back together and thanks each other for the gifts they have received. Lance seems to be thanking Merlin for the whiskey he has been given. Leon, meanwhile is showing off his new silver flask that is carved with a stag’s head. A gift from Merlin.

Arthur can feel depression inching towards him like a dark cloud on a clear night. Merlin seems to have purchased thoughtful gifts for everyone present that he knows. Everyone except Arthur. To divert himself he seeks out his cousin.

She and Gwen are together, admiring a silver, knotted, broach which, as Arthur watches, Gwen fastens into Morgana’s curls. It looks beautiful there. The two girls then admire a new bracelet that Gwen is sporting. These gifts could not be inexpensive and yet, as he continues watching, both of them turn to Merlin and thank him. There are tears in Gwen’s eyes as she kisses him.

Arthur walks over then, unable to stop himself.

“Thank you both for the card.” Arthur says, kissing Gwen on her cheek (she blushes deeply and turns her eyes away), and shaking Merlin’s hand in earnest. Perhaps he has perfected his father's forced calm after all.

“Nae bother, mate.” Merlin says. He has definitely been drinking, as his accent is stronger than usual. Arthur locks each syllable away in his brain like a Christmas parcel of its own.

*

Arthur watches Merlin dance with Gwen, the two of them swaying close, faces near as though they're sharing a secret. He closes his eyes and for a blissful second he imagines himself and Merlin dancing together, not caring who can see or who might care, leaning in to press his cheek against Merlin's face and whispering a kiss into his ear.

*

Merlin watches Arthur lead Morgana from the dance floor, both of their faces flushed from drink and from laughing. The embrace they share is so natural and full of love that Merlin's heart pains with jealousy and he suddenly, and very acutely, misses his mother.

*

"I wis actually wantin’ ta talk ta ye alone, if you've a moment." Merlin says, coming up to Arthur beside the bar. Arthur feels his stomach flutter nervously. Talk to him alone? About what? Arthur just shrugs, looking around for a quiet place and leading Merlin there. 

"I've somethin’ fer ye." Merlin says then, fumbling in his sporran. He removes a very small parcel that has been meticulously wrapped in plain brown paper. "It's no' much but I thought ye’d like it."

His hands shake slightly as he gives Arthur the parcel, and his fingers brush gently against Arthur's sending an involuntary shiver down Arthur's spine. Arthur unwraps it carefully, being sure not to damage the paper. The earlier disappointment he had felt at not receiving a gift from Merlin evaporates completely. He is so pleased that Merlin has thought to get him something that he can't begin to care what it is.

"Tablet?" Arthur asks, looking up at Merlin who is smiling. 

"Aye." Merlin says, his eyes alight.

"Thank you?" Arthur says, turning the small packet of sweets over and studying it. He kind of wants to cry, but he really isn't going to.

"An’ _this_ is why I didnae want ye ta open it wi' tha rest - there's a story." Arthur almost laughs at how ridiculously Scottish Merlin sounds, but he manages to restrain himself. "I didnae think ye'd want somethin' shiny an' useless, so I wis havin' trouble thinkin' whit tae buy, then I saw this by the till."

"Tablet?" Arthur repeats, incredulous.

"Aye, noo, haud yer wheesht. 'Twas a donation. Young lad wi' cancer and nae faimly. So I gave them the money I wis gonnae spend oan you."

Arthur stares at Merlin, fighting back hard against the desire to snog his face off. It is an incredibly thoughtful gesture, and made weeks ago by the sounds of it. Arthur opens the box slowly and takes a piece of tablet and bites into it. The sweetness almost burns his mouth. Merlin watches Arthur's lips, waiting for a response. Arthur can think of nothing to say, mostly because all of his brain power is being used to stop himself from kissing Merlin.

A group of giggling girls swishes past in a swirl of skirts and the tension between them breaks. Arthur clears his throat, but only manages a pathetic "Cheers, mate."

Merlin's face splits in a smile, his eyes twinkling. It cannot be plainer that he was nervous about Arthur's reaction. "Nae bother. Happy Christmas!"

Arthur nods his head at Merlin and the younger man disappears back into the crowd. Arthur watches as he's absorbed heartily into a group that includes Percy and Pelinore, both of whom give Merlin exuberant hugs. Percy hugging someone? The Christmas spirit must be strong tonight, Arthur chuckles as, taking another bite of his tablet, he merges back into the crowd.

*

Merlin feels much, much better now that the gift giving part of the evening is over. He’d been so nervous about his gifts that he hadn’t been able to think straight the entire evening. However, as is often the case, Gwen is right, and no one cares much what Merlin is wearing or what he bought them, they’re just all glad to see him there. It’s a strange feeling for Merlin to be welcome and accepted by this sort of crowd. He briefly wonders what Will would say if he were here in this opulent ballroom surrounded by these opulent people. Most likely he’d say something anti-royalist and get them both kicked out. Merlin laughs to himself at that and makes a mental note to text Will when the party's over.

Having stopped drinking now that he’s no longer so nervous, Merlin is able to enjoy the party more. He laughs as Percy and Owaine begin to arm wrestle very competitively, drawing the attention of a group of girls Merlin doesn’t recognise. Morgause and Morgana emerge red-faced from behind the Christmas tree and Gwen sighs in frustration, going to speak to Morgana about keeping up appearances. Arthur, who Merlin is trying very hard not to openly stare at, is happily ensconced at a table with a few of his closest friends.

He had seemed pleased with the gift Merlin had gotten him. Arthur’s had been the hardest. He’d had something picked out when he was in the shop in Glasgow, but it just hadn’t seemed right. As soon as he’d seen the charity tablet he’d known that was exactly what Arthur would want. It’s what Merlin would have wanted to buy for himself, too.

Merlin is, however, quite disheartened that he hasn’t received a gift from Arthur. Not even one of the engraved hip flasks Arthur had given the men at the party who weren’t part of his close circle of friends. It means, of course, that Arthur barely regards Merlin as an acquaintance, and certainly not as a friend. Merlin tries not to get too sad about this, but fails miserably, and by the end of the evening he’s started drinking again, convinced that Arthur would probably not notice if he weren’t there at all.

*

Not long after the Christmas crackers have been pulled, Arthur meanders his way to the toilets. He's had a fair amount to drink, and whatever Morgana has put in the Christmas Punch is taking it’s toll on him. The walls aren't exactly spinning, but they're not stationary either. Morgana has had far too much to drink and Arthur can see Gwen trying desperately to stop her from climbing the Christmas tree to snog the angel tree topper. It's a very humorous scene, and Arthur keeps his eyes on them as he backs his way, somewhat clumsily, through the toilet doors.

The first thing Arthur does is check his reflection and adjust the position of his paper Christmas crown, smiling at himself in the mirror. The crown, he has to admit, suits him.

"Stop."

The voice is low, insistent. Arthur freezes and looks behind himself in the mirror to see a cubicle door shut with more than one set of feet visible. One of which has trousers around the ankles, the other of which is not wearing trousers at all, but a kilt.

"Gwaine!"

Arthur almost vomits into the basin. Of course. Of course Merlin would take his chance now, with Gwen so thoroughly occupied.

Arthur, who is certain he can't witness this exchange no matter how much Christmas Punch he's consumed, heads back out of the toilets.

"Not here, Gwaine, please." Merlin says, his voice clouded.

Arthur opens the door quietly and exits the room. He grabs two large cups of punch off the tray of a passing waiter and downs them in quick succession deciding that if there ever was a time to drink himself sideways, that time is now.

*

Merlin looks at his reflection, watching the last glint of gold leave his blue eyes. He may have sworn to himself that he wasn't going to do magic anymore, but he hadn't had a choice. Most likely Gwaine would not have stopped if Merlin hadn't acted quickly, and he thought knocking Gwaine out magically was a lot nicer than punching him in the face.

Although leaving Gwaine slumped facedown with his trousers around his ankles seems like fitting punishment, Merlin decides to, at least, sit Gwaine upright.

He struggles for a few minutes to heave Gwaine onto the toilet seat. At least that will explain the downed trousers because, as much as he might like Gwaine when he's sober, nothing in the world could make Merlin pull Gwaine's trousers back up for him. He leaves Gwaine leaning sideways against the cubicle wall.

He thinks about how forceful Gwaine had been, how insistent, and decides perhaps a bit more humiliation is required to teach him a lesson, so he snaps a picture with his phone, adds a humorous string of emoticons and sends it via text message to the guys.

Afterwards he returns to the party and goes to rescue Gwen who is trying to stop Morgana from stealing a microphone and starting an extremely out of tune rendition of “Santa Baby”.

*

Arthur wakes just after dawn and he has one second of calm before his hangover crashes over him. God. How much of that punch did he drink?

He quickly downs the vial of Gaius's patented hangover cure that is on his bedside table then dresses in running gear and heads for the streets. He may be hungover as fuck and facing what is likely to be a record-length lecture from his father about the dangers of overindulging, but the only thing he can think about right now is Gwaine and Merlin together at the party last night, and the only cure for that kind of anger and disappointment is a good, hard run.

*

"Arthur!" Merlin exclaims, nearly spilling his newly poured coffee all over himself in surprise.

Arthur, red faced and sweating from what has obviously been a very strenuous run, does not look pleased to see Merlin. Instead of a "hello" Merlin only gets a curt nod as Arthur walks past him towards the counter. John doesn't seem to have noticed there is a new customer and doesn't come through from the back. As none of Arthur's security have followed him into the cafe, he and Merlin are quite alone.

"How are you?" Merlin asks, thinking that Arthur looks very well indeed for the copious amounts of alcohol no doubt consumed mere hours ago.

Arthur turns to face him and crosses his arms over his chest. "Why are you here?"

"Um... Coffee?" Merlin says, attempting to make a joke even though Arthur's actions and tone prove he is not at all in the mood.

"No." Arthur says, shaking his head. "Here in London."

“Well, my train doesn’t leave for another twenty minutes so I thought I’d stop for coffee first.” Merlin shrugs. He knows how Arthur can get about his personal, secret coffee supplier. “I promise it’s just for me. I still haven’t told anyone…”

“No.” Arthur says, his voice low and dangerous. “You're not understanding me. Why are you _here?”_

Merlin watches Arthur for a few seconds, taking in the aggressive stance, the crossed arms, the glower. _“Why are you here?”_ he’d asked, but he obviously doesn’t mean The Dawn Treader or even London for that matter. He means why is he _here_.

"What is happening right now?"  Merlin asks, suddenly and incredibly hurt by Arthur’s tone and the implications of his repeated question. Merlin can feel an embarrassing prickling at the back of his eyes like he’s going to cry.

"What's happening is I'm done. I will ask you one more time. _Why are you here_?"

"Good question." Merlin says, opting for anger, keeping his voice as flat as he can make it, despite his rising temper. "Believe me when I say I am not here of my own volition."

"So go." Arthur says, drawing the words out into very long syllables and gesturing at the door; looking for all the world as though he is ordering Merlin away. “Run away home to Scotland.”

Merlin can’t understand what is happening. The only thing he can think is that Arthur has gotten wind of the Gwaine fiasco from the previous evening and has inferred, quite wrongly, that there’s something going on between Merlin and Gwaine. It must have something to do, as Merlin has previously speculated, with Arthur wanting to have all of his toys to himself.

“If I were you,” Arthur continues, and there is so much venom and hatred in his voice that Merlin feels he should be bleeding from fatal wounds inflicted by Arthur’s words, “I wouldn’t bother coming back.”

Merlin almost walks to the door. Almost. Then he decides he’s not going anywhere. How dare Arthur just assume that Merlin will do as he's told, especially considering how ludicrous his command is.

"Sacking me, are you?” Merlin retorts, trying to imbibe his words with all the venom he’s capable of, “Well, I'm afraid you'll have to go through the proper channels." Merlin does not betray even the merest flicker of his true emotions. "I'm sure Gaius will be interested to hear your reasons for the dismissal."

It is only then that Merlin goes to the door. Just as he is one step out, he turns back to Arthur and smiles a very wide smile, narrowing his eyes.

"Good seeing you, Arthur.” Merlin says, wondering if this is the last time he will ever see Arthur, and wanting to rewind the entire universe and start his day over again, start his life over again, anything, _anything_ to prevent him from having to see the look on Arthur’s face at this moment. At the last second Merlin almost loses his nerve, but his voice is still venomous and strong as spits his parting words at Arthur. “Have a Happy Christmas."

The chime of the bell on the door as it shuts punctuates Merlin's sentence for him.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 22 - In which Merlin arrives in Scotland for his Christmas holidays and Arthur discovers a frightening truth.
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

**Chapter 22**

"Arthur?"

"Good morning, Gwen. Feeling well, I trust?" Arthur says, striding past Gwen and into the suite she shares with Merlin. He has a large cardboard box with him, and he sets it on the floor beside his feet.

"A little worse for wear but fine, yes. Is everything OK?"

"Yes, yes, I'm just here to take care of some unfinished business. This is Merlin's room, I assume?" Arthur asks, gesturing to the closed door on the left.

"No! That's mine! Merlin's is that one, but he's not in."

"That's fine, I don't need him for this." Gwen gives him a startled look as he goes to Merlin's room. It is spotlessly clean and the bed is made, which makes sense because Merlin was probably either with Gwen or with Gwaine overnight.

Arthur merely glances around once before he sets his box on the edge of the bed and then opens the wardrobe. There are barely any clothes in there, but Arthur lifts them and puts them in the box. Gwen watches him from the doorway.

"What are you doing? Those are Merlin's things."

"He's moving."

"He's what?" 

"Moving. Back to Scotland. Didn't he say?"

"Arthur, what is going on?"

Arthur doesn't answer her, he just continues packing Merlin's belongings. After a moment she disappears but Arthur is so intent on his task that he barely notices.

He's in the shared bathroom when Gwen returns.

"May I ask why you are packing Merlin's things, sire?" 

Arthur looks up to see Gaius whom Gwen must have summoned.

"He's not coming back from Scotland." Arthur says, combing through the toiletries, trying to decide which ones are Merlin's. Probably not the flowery ones...

"Why?"

"I've sacked him." 

"Why?"

Arthur pauses, clutching a bottle of shampoo held in front of him stupidly. He thinks for a moment, then shrugs.

"Because I hate him." Arthur nods as though confirming this fact with himself. Gwen and Gaius exchange a worried look. "Actually, now that I think of it, a sacking is not severe enough. Perhaps... Yes. I shall have him arrested. Yes. Much more suitable." 

Arthur drops the shampoo bottle and fumbles for his phone. Why hadn't he thought of this earlier? Moving to Scotland isn't a punishment for Merlin! He _ wants _ to live there. Arthur really should have thought of that. No, Merlin needs to be  _ punished _ . Maybe Arthur will have him banished from Scotland. That would serve him right. Never again will he be allowed to go home. Actually, maybe Arthur can have him banished from the whole United Kingdom. Yes.

Arthur falls unconscious halfway through dialing George's number.

*

Merlin spends the majority of the train journey thinking desperately about Arthur and the rest of the time trying desperately  _ not _ to think about Arthur. It's a sorry, sorry state of affairs. He alternates between staring out of the train window blinking back tears in a state of all-encompassing depression, and a rage so pure and intense that he's accidentally shorted out his phone charger with magic.

Merlin can't help but replay the argument in his head. The words Arthur had said and the brutal honesty they exemplified. It must have been nice for Arthur, who always has to censor his own feelings for the benefit of others, to come out and say something true for once. It must have been freeing. 

And of course what Arthur had said was true, there wasn't a doubt in Merlin's mind that Arthur had merely been humoring him out of politeness for the past few months. Didn’t most of Arthur’s actions point to his only  _ tolerating _ Merlin? He’d never invited Merlin to watch the football match; Gwaine had. He’d never invited Merlin to the Christmas party even though six other people had, Arthur’s cousin included. He’d never even gotten Merlin a Christmas gift, even though every single other person at the party had received one. 

It was something that Merlin should have seen coming ever since the swimming baths when he’d stupidly,  _ stupidly _ kissed Arthur. If anything was going to drive the nails into the coffin of his fledgling friendship with Arthur it was an attempt to make it more than a friendship. Merlin curses himself and he curses his life and he curses the fact that he’d ever gone to London.

In the middle of all this cursing he may or may not bang his head on the train table a few times, drawing looks of concern from his fellow passengers. 

Of course Merlin will not be adhering to Arthur’s request, he has worked too hard on his software programme with Gaius to abandon it now. He wonders how comfortable he’ll feel returning to London after this, but he knows he has no choice. He’ll just have to do his best to avoid Arthur as much as possible and hope that, in the event that they ever do meet again, Arthur can stand to be in his presence at least a little bit. Even if Merlin were willing to abandon the work he’d put into his programme, there’s no job for him in Ealdor, nowhere to live, nothing there for him at all except painful memories and William.

Will. Merlin bangs his head against the table again and then once more for good measure. Will is going to have a fucking field day with the news of Arthur’s appalling behaviour. It’s going to reinforce the opinion Will has held since they were kids together that Arthur is a daft prick unworthy of their attention and unworthy of the crown.

What a fucking mess.  

And on top of that, on top of every other miserable feeling Merlin is coping with, there is of course the small fact of his complete and utter heartbreak. He is in love with Arthur, and Arthur had, basically, broken up with him. Had sent him away. Had told him to fuck off. Well, basically. The edges of Merlin's heart feel broken and raw, libel to cut him if he investigates too closely.

Merlin opens his book without seeing the pages and uses it as a barrier screen to block his fellow passengers from seeing the tears welling in his eyes.

By the time the train reaches Preston, Merlin has thankfully fallen asleep, face pressed against the glass as the English countryside speeds past.

*

When Arthur wakes he feels terrible. For a minute he wonders if he's nearly been hit by a car again, his head is pounding like he has fractured his skull in any case. His eyes focus and bring his own bedroom into focus. Gaius is sitting at his bedside, a grateful look on his face.

"What happened?" Arthur asks, lifting a hand to his forehead.

"It appears you've been poisoned." Gaius says. It takes Arthur a few seconds to focus, but Gaius is holding up the vial from which Arthur had drunk what he thought to be Gaius's hangover cure.

"Poisoned? I’m not going to die, am I? I mean, what did it…? What are the…?” Arthur, realising his panic isn't going to help anyone, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Am I going to be OK?"

"It seems," Gaius says, slowly, allowing for Arthur's agitated state, "that the poison was intended to instill a false feeling of hatred towards a particular individual. There was hair in it, in this case belonging to our young Mr Emrys."

Arthur's blood freezes. Merlin? Why would someone try to make him hate Merlin? Had someone guessed Arthur's true feelings and decided to prey on Arthur's weakness?

“Why?” Arthur asks, hoping his tone portrays a high level of confusion.

“We have no idea.” Gaius says, and Arthur has a strange feeling he’s holding back, “Thankfully we appear to have given you an antidote before you were able to act upon this false hatred, Merlin having left for Scotland so early this morning."

"How did you know that I'd been poisoned then?"

"Gwen alerted me. Apparently you told her you had sacked Merlin and when I found you you were halfway through shipping him his possessions. We did manage to incapacitate you before you tried to have him arrested." Arthur falls back against his pillows, shaking his head. It sounds rather like Gaius is trying not to laugh. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go and tell your father you're awake. He wants to see you."

After Gaius leaves, Arthur lays still for a few long minutes, trying to remember anything at all that happened this morning, but failing completely. He remembers deciding to go for a run, but nothing after that. How could this have happened? How could Arthur have been poisoned? Perhaps someone who was at the Christmas party? He thinks of the mysterious letter he'd meant to show Gaius but had forgotten, he'll make sure to show him now.

Arthur feels lucky that it wasn't a deadly poison, at least.

Although by the time he has been thoroughly interrogated and shouted at by his father he thinks a tiny bit of death would do him good.

After his father leaves in a towering temper, Arthur decides the only thing for it is coffee. He's on his way to ringing the kitchens when he decides an espresso from The Dawn Treader is the only remedy and departs instead on the short walk across the Palace grounds. His father would murder him in cold blood if he knew Arthur was leaving the Palace grounds so soon after being poisoned, but Arthur doesn’t care. He doesn’t even ring security, but as he leaves the gate he sees two guards detach themselves and follow him out into the city, remaining a discreet distance behind him. 

There are a few customers when Arthur enters the shop. John looks startled, but not displeased, to see him in the store when there are witnesses. Arthur tries to pretend he's never been before and takes his time perusing the menu before ordering an espresso, straight.

He makes light conversation with John as he pays for his drink, both of them pretending they've never met. Arthur can't help the smile that spreads across his face.

"So I take it you've made up with your friend, then?" John asks him under cover of the espresso grinder whirring loudly. Arthur looks at him, confused. John barely even mouths the name, but how could it be anyone else...

"Seems like you had an argument this morning is all. Shame, really, I quite like the boy."

Arthur tries very, very hard not to react to John's words. If John had seen them argue, that must mean that Arthur had seen Merlin this morning when he was under the influence of the poison. Arthur's blood grows cold again. According to John they had argued. What had he said? What had he  _ done _ ?

He takes the espresso and thanks John, then claws his way back out of the shop through the crowd of people which, in the three minutes it took John to pull his shot, has quadrupled at least.

Nodding politely at the paparazzi who have appeared on the pavement as if from nowhere, Arthur rushes back to the safety of the grounds. He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials Merlin immediately. No answer. He jots out a quick text asking him to call immediately, then breaks into a jog. He must speak to Gwen, maybe she'll know how to get in touch with Merlin.

*

As soon as Merlin arrived in Ealdor he told Will about the encounter with Arthur, because there was no use keeping secrets from Will, ever. Will had reacted in trademark Will style and had threatened to walk to London just to punch Arthur in the face, twice.

The thing is, after Merlin's anger at Arthur faded, all that was left was confusion and sadness. So Merlin approaches his Christmas break rather miserably, just trying to do his part to help Will, Jack and Isa prepare for the holiday. Jack and Isa have prepared the King Suite at the Inn for Merlin to stay in while he is in town, and had insisted that Merlin not pay a penny, though when they’re not paying attention Merlin slips some cash into their safe, it isn't much, but it should be enough to cover the two weeks in a smaller room, anyway.

They have the Inn to themselves as Jack and Isa haven’t taken any accommodation bookings over the festive period. They haven’t taken holiday bookings since Will came to live with them, instead preferring to make the Inn their special family hideaway from Christmas through to New Year.

It is a tradition Will has always loved, and therefore one that Merlin gets on board with immediately. Will normally resides within the owner’s quarters at the back of the Inn, but the King Suite is much more posh and, at the first hint of an invitation, Will settles himself into Merlin’s room with him. This way they can stay up to all hours of the night talking and laughing and even watching television without worrying about disturbing Jack and Isa.

Although the rest of the UK is experiencing a very mild winter, a few days before Christmas it starts to snow in Ealdor and it doesn’t stop. Not one of the villagers questions the strange weather, as all of them are used to having white Christmases. The atmospheric magic required is so routine to Merlin that it barely registers.

The last piece of magic that Merlin conducts is to make the entire McTavish family so ill with the flu that none of them leave their house for days. It’s not much of a reprise, but it is appreciated.

It is only when no one is looking that Merlin lets himself feel the sadness that has settled into his bones. Quite apart from the Arthur situation, this is Merlin’s first Christmas without his mother and he misses her so much it feels like oxygen deprivation.

*

The following afternoon, after a solid day of travelling, Arthur finds himself standing outside The Prince and Crown Inn in Ealdor, looking around at the handful of buildings that must count as the centre of the village. 

Merlin had been truthful about the size of the place, anyway, and the isolation. Arthur passed the borders of what he considers to be civilization almost two hours ago. 

Even though it is barely three in the afternoon the light here has a strange, twilight quality to it which makes Arthur feel very Christmassy. A feeling which is helped along by the generous dusting of snow on the ground. There hadn’t, to his knowledge, been a forecast for snow and therefore Arthur is improperly dressed. Hoping that, among other things, the Inn has a roaring fire, Arthur swings his duffle bag over his shoulder and walks carefully up the icy path. 

The door opens onto a warmly lit corridor with stairs leading up to the first floor and a small window in the wall on his right which allows him to speak to the elderly landlady who is also working in the bar area.

"Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?" She rolls her R's just like Merlin does.

"I'm looking for a room, please."

“Hmm… We normally don't take bookings over Christmas…” The landlady grumbles as she withdraws a massive leather book from beneath the counter and flips it open to a page headed with the date. Arthur watches her, amused. He can't think of any time, ever, that he has stayed somewhere without digital room reservations. He smiles again, deciding he loves the place already.

“I'm a friend of Merlin Emrys…” Arthur says, helpfully, hoping that's still true.

"Hmm… well, I suppose… Let's see, We have a single looking over the village or a queen overlooking the river. I'm afraid our king suite is already taken." The woman smiles at him warmly. Although she must surely recognise Arthur she makes no allowances for him, and this pleases him very much. He grows easily tired of people doing him "favours" simply because he's famous or rich or royalty.

"The queen suite will be ideal, thank you." As Arthur watches the woman pencils HRH into the appropriate space in her diary, which actually makes Arthur laugh out loud. 

"How many nights?" 

Arthur thinks about how many days of freedom he can relatively expect before his father either swarms him with security or downright forces him to return to London. "Five, please." Which gives him until Boxing Day.

"Would you like breakfast included in the rate?"

"Yes, please."

“It might not be served within our normal hours, mind, as you're our only guest.” 

She tells Arthur the total and he hands her his credit card. She smiles again and totters off towards the bar. Arthur looks around the door into the pub to see a moderately full dining area, which is surprising considering it's late afternoon. Everyone in the place is staring at him. He smiles awkwardly and ducks back into the hallway.

The woman returns with the card machine and Arthur enters his PIN number. 

"We would normally change the bedding every second night, however, if you want it changed more often please just let us know. I think we can manage to serve breakfast around eight, here in the dining area. We serve lunch and dinner as well but that price is not included."

"Good. Great. Thank you."

"You're in room 7. That's on the second floor at the back. Number is on the door. If you need anything, the bar is always staffed."

Arthur takes his key, an old fashioned skeleton key, and thanks her again. He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder and heads for the stairs.

There's a tall, dark haired man leaning against the newel post. He's regarding Arthur with a knowing, ironic smile on his face.

"Need help with your bag?" The man asks, still looking at Arthur as though he knows something Arthur doesn't. 

"No. I think I can manage." Arthur says, narrowing his eyes. He isn't getting the best vibes from the unknown man.

"Are you sure?" The man says, quickly enough that he could pretend to have said something else. 

"Excuse me?" Arthur says, knowing full well what the man said, and wondering what he's done to make him angry, although, in Scotland you never can tell. There are some pretty serious anti-royalists here.

"You're a long way from home, aren't you?" The man says, still with the same hostility in his voice.

"Not...really."

"Arthur?" 

Arthur whips his head around, startled, to see Merlin in the doorway. Arthur's heart stops for a few agonising seconds. Merlin looks incredible; his hair is messy from the winter hat he's just removed and there's a healthy pink flush in his cheeks. His lips are very red and Arthur has to stop himself from openly staring. It feels like a long time since he's seen him.

"Merlin! Hi! I..."

"What are you doing here?" Merlin’s tone is not pleasant. Not for the first time Arthur wishes he could remember  their argument, then he would at least know how much he needs to apologise for. 

"I was just about to ask him that." The other man says, drawing Merlin's attention. Something like a warning flashes in Merlin's eyes. "Let me guess. You were passing by and thought you'd stop in? No? You were on your way elsewhere and your car broke down? No?"

"Actually, I was not nearby, but..."

“You shouldn’t have come.” The man blurts out.

“Will, stop.” Merlin says, and there is definitely a warning in his tone.

Arthur looks back and forth between Merlin and the man at the bottom of the stairs. So, this is Will? From all the good things Merlin has said about him, Arthur had expected someone more… well, someone more something, anyway. Still, Arthur has spent the past few months resenting William for the close relationship he has with Merlin, so it’s easy for him to feel a negative bias in this situation.

“You’re Will?”

"Prince William," Will says, with withering sarcasm, "of Ealdor."

"Will." Merlin says, sharply, another warning.

When no one else speaks, Arthur's diplomatic training kicks in and he hears himself say "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

It isn't. 

"You should've brought your crown with you, it would have made a lovely picture." Will says, finally disappearing around a corner. 

Merlin continues to look after Will even though he’s no longer there. Arthur watches Merlin, looking for any reaction at all to his appearance in Ealdor, but as time passes, a complete and awkward silence descends between them. With the absence of Will, there seems to be an awful lot of things unsaid.

“Listen, I…” Arthur starts, after swallowing what feels like a football in the back of his throat.

“Just forget it, ok?” Merlin says, with the air of someone who really,  _ really _ doesn’t want to talk about it.

“No.” Arthur imbues the word with some authority, and hopefully Merlin senses that he is not to be contested. “There are things I need to say.”

Merlin looks at Arthur for a long time, and Arthur feels like the entire universe is holding its breath. Then, Merlin checks the room number on Arthur's key, nods once, and begins to climb the stairs two at a time.

Arthur shoulders his bag again and follows him up the broad staircase, down a narrow corridor and then up a second flight of stairs. They arrive outside Room 7, and Merlin steps aside as Arthur opens the door with his key and enters the room.

It is small and decorated in a dusty, old fashioned way which suits the Inn perfectly. The bed is tucked under the eaves and there are two windows which look out into the dim afternoon. Arthur sets his duffle bag on his bed and turns back to face Merlin where he is standing in the door to the room. 

Arthur has rehearsed his apology throughout his entire journey north, but now that he is alone with Merlin he can think of exactly nothing to say. Merlin’s hair is still one big, stupid mess. The only thing that is different about him is the look on his face - gone is the trusting, moderately happy look Merlin usually wears in Arthur’s presence, replaced by a saddening mixture of intense hurt and distrust. 

“Why did you come here, Arthur?”

“To apologise, of course.”

“Why?” Some of the hurt showing on Merlin’s face escapes into his tone of voice and it completely breaks Arthur’s heart. He’d done this, he was responsible, completely responsible for the situation.

“Have you spoken to Gaius?” Arthur asks, beginning to pace the small room. Merlin doesn’t move but watches Arthur’s progress back and forth.

“No. I haven’t spoken to anyone. Why?”

“I've been trying to get in touch with you since you left…” Arthur says, willing Merlin to believe him. 

“Signal is patchy out here.” Merlin says with a shrug.

“Right, well, this is going to sound...Um… Right, ok.” 

“What, Arthur?” Perhaps Merlin has been taking cues from Arthur, because his voice rings with authority.

“I was poisoned.” Arthur spits out, knowing himself it sounds rather lame. Merlin raises one eyebrow and cocks his head slightly. “John told me that you and I had argued, and that is the only way I knew I’d seen you yesterday morning. I have no memory of what happened or what I said. All I know is, well, what Gaius has said is that someone poisoned me with a potion that was designed to make me feel intense hatred for someone.”

“Okay…” Merlin does not sound like he believes one single word Arthur is saying.

“It’s true, Merlin, honestly. I woke up the morning after the party, drank what I thought was a hangover cure but was actually poison and that’s all I remember until yesterday afternoon when Gaius explained what happened.”

“But how did Gaius know?”

However much Arthur hates it, he can’t bring himself to say Gwen’s name to Merlin. He can’t stand watching Merlin’s eyes light up when he hears her name, as usual, so he works his way around it. “Apparently I went into your room and started boxing your things to send to Scotland? Gaius saw me doing it and knocked me out and gave me an antidote. He says I threatened to have you arrested, but I swear to you I can’t remember anything.”

Arthur stops pacing and just stands there, willing Merlin to believe him.

“Okay.” Merlin says, finally, but Arthur is still unsure. 

“Okay?”

“Aye.” Merlin nods, putting his wooly hat back on and pulling it low over his ears. He does not look like he has believed Arthur’s story. Maybe Arthur had said something completely unforgivable, and Merlin is just being polite until Arthur leaves, but he plans to stay in Scotland anyway? Arthur imagines returning to London and leaving Merlin behind, never to see him again - it makes him feel slightly sick “For an apology in future, a phone call will suffice. Make sure to get the Inn's telephone number from Isa.”

Arthur wonders why this hadn't crossed his mind then realises just as quickly that he'd needed to  _ see _ Merlin, to apologise in person.

“But you're here now, so make yourself comfortable. Let Isa know if you need anything. I'd better get back to work.” Merlin goes to leave and Arthur has to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing him. Just at the last moment, Merlin turns back, pulling thick gloves onto his hands. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Whatever I said to you, Merlin, it wasn’t me.”

“Aye, you’ve said.” And with one last, long look, Merlin is gone.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 23 - In which Merlin begins to forgive the Prince, Arthur ends up playing football with Will, and Merlin gets a phonecall from Gwen.
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

**Chapter 23**

“Don’t tell me you’ve kissed and made up already.” Will storms, appearing from behind the staircase as soon as Merlin gets to the bottom landing.

“Keep your voice down!” Merlin hisses, pulling Will by his forearm into the Inn’s kitchen.

“What the fuck is that prick even doing here? After sacking you like that he’s got some nerve coming up here…”

“Shut it, Will. Now.” Merlin snaps, feeling his anger crack like static in the air around them. He’s not mad at Will, not really, but he’s not going to try to explain anything right now, not with all these curious people within earshot. “I don’t have to explain anything to you, Will. He’s here now, and that’s that. Did you want my help tonight or not?”

“Don’t you change the subject on me, Merlin.”

“Will, I am not talking about it.”

The two of them glare at each other, then Will seems to decide that he wants Merlin’s help more than he wants an explanation of Arthur’s behaviour.

“Fine. Let’s go, then.”

Neither of them speak as they walk out into the cold evening. Having been so pleased to see Will yesterday, Merlin now almost wishes he were alone. He’s gotten so used to having no one to talk to about anything important that it feels strange to be sharing again, even with Will.

Merlin had been equal parts pleased to see Arthur and absolutely terrified at his sudden arrival, and he’s still on the fence. Even after Arthur’s apology and his insistence that he had been poisoned against Merlin (the reason behind which is something else Merlin doesn’t understand, but now is not the time), he’s not exactly sure what Arthur is doing in Ealdor. Surely he’d have been able to relay an apology in some other manner? Surely he didn’t come all this way just to see Merlin. Surely.

By the time they reach the horse stables, Merlin has it all figured out.

Hadn’t Arthur been complaining about how onerous he found his duties this time of year? The parties he had to attend that he didn’t want to go to. The hands he had to shake and the niceties he had to observe. Obviously he’d jumped on the opportunity to “apologise” to Merlin and had followed him to Scotland as an excuse, just so he wouldn’t have to attend these events.

After reaching this conclusion Merlin feels much more at ease. It's the quiet of Ealdor Arthur had come for, and he'd used Merlin as an excuse.

“You are still doing the Christmas lights, right? The Royal Prat isn't going to stop you doing the lights, is he?” Will says, still sounding angry as he begins to muck out the horse stalls.

"I will do the tree lights, Will. I said I would and I will. You'll just have to make sure Arthur stays away long enough." Merlin checks over his shoulder to make sure no one is looking, then uses his magic to clean the stalls almost instantly. Will, resting on his shovel, glares at Merlin.

"You want me to distract him?"

"Aye. Tomorrow afternoon." Merlin leads the way out onto the paddock where the horses are grazing. “And landing him in A&E doesn't count!”

Will grumbles a bit, then goes over to a young gray and adjusts her blanket.

“Listen, he's not exactly my favorite person right now, either, but if you want me to do the lights, you'll need to get him out of the picture for at least an hour. I can't do magic in front of Arthur. His grandfather used to execute magic users, remember?"

"His father revoked all of those laws though." Will, reminds him, sounding strangely as though he's defending Arthur.

"Still."

"Fair enough. It's your secret." Will looks out over the snowy fields and takes his time deciding. "I'll distract him somehow."

"Wow." Merlin says, leading a horse back into the warm stables, "You must really want those Christmas lights."

The rest of Merlin's evening is spent trying to convince Isa and Jack that they shouldn't be panicking. He spends a good fifteen minutes calming down the chef and ten minutes at least explaining that the wait staff do not need to get their hair styled just to serve Arthur dinner.

Arthur, for his part, is acting nothing at all like royalty. Merlin has been advised of Arthur's every move and is being given regular updates by the very excited housekeeper. Although, as much as Merlin fancies the future king, he does not need to be informed when he's been for a shower.

Arthur is now seated in a comfortable armchair by the fire in the snug, reading a book. Merlin watches him from the doorway, torn between being insanely happy and trying very hard not to be too happy in preparation for when, as is inevitable, Arthur decides he's had a change of heart and wants nothing more to do with Merlin. Again.

In the meantime, Merlin sighs to himself, I may as well enjoy the company.

*

"We're going to play football?" Arthur asks, incredulous. Will looks nervous asking, which makes Arthur want to laugh. Merlin must have had a word with his friend and told him to behave himself, because Will has apologized for his previous behaviour and explained that he just doesn't like to be surprised.

"Five-a-sides, aye."

"Who with?" Arthur asks around a bite of buttered toast.

“Just some of the lads.”

“When?”

“Two-ish. We've to put the horses out first. And Wee Davie can only make it if his mum says she'll watch the shop, so it might be four-a-side, but we'll do our best. You in?”

Arthur contemplates the prospect as he cuts through his cooked tomato. Will makes what is definitely an impatient tut, but tries to disguise it as a cough. Arthur raises an eyebrow at him. “I'm in, I guess.”

“Great. See ye after.”

Will turns to leave but Arthur calls him back as he's at the doorway.

“Is Merlin playing?” Arthur hopes the question sounds casual.

“Naw, he's working. I'll meet you here, aye? “

“Sure.”

After Will leaves Arthur swears under his breath. He's barely seen Merlin at all since his arrival yesterday. The younger boy is either very busy or making himself scarce on purpose. Arthur knows he hasn't yet been forgiven, and he is still hoping to talk to Merlin about their argument. He wants to know what he said so he knows exactly what to apologise for.

He's decided his best chance to see Merlin is to stay at the Inn as much as possible, so he's done an awful lot of sitting around. A game of football will do him good.

*

Arthur meets Will just outside the Inn and they head off together towards the centre of the village. After a few minutes’ walk they end up at the edge of an indescribably muddy field. The snow which carpets the village seems not to have fallen here, or perhaps it has been absorbed by the mud. Arthur is on the brink of asking which way the football pitch is when a group of scruffy looking men turn up, one of whom is holding what must have once been a football.

Arthur’s heart sinks. There are no goalposts. There are no lines. There’s barely even any grass! How are they supposed to play football here?

Rather than show himself as a spoiled rich kid who’s only ever played on the best quality pitches, Arthur tries to pass off his shocked disbelief as mere incredulity. By the smirk on Will’s face, he utterly fails.

“Morning, Wullie. Who's this?” Asks the man with the football.

“This is Arthur.” Will says. Arthur holds out his hand but the other man doesn't take it.

“Aye?” The man says, eyeing Arthur suspiciously.

“I'm a friend of Merlin's.”

“‘Course you are.” The man nods. “We playin’?”

“Aye,” Will says, then, turning to Arthur, introduces the rest of the guys. “This here's Iain, Colin, Davie, Roddy, Allan, Wee Davie, Ruairidh, and Jamie. Let's play.”

They split into two teams and someone produces a coin to flip for sides. Then, without any preamble, they're playing what is by a very long way the dirtiest, scrappiest game of football Arthur has ever played.

It seems as though, rather than scoring goals, the objective of this game is to commit as many fouls as possible and to nearly mortally wound as many people as possible, even if they're on your team. At least it explains the absence of goal posts.

Will looks as though he expected Arthur to restrain himself and act like some sort of posh ninny, but Arthur throws himself into the melee joyfully. By half time there are two bloody noses, a black eye and at least one cracked rib, but everyone is having a brilliant time. No one is keeping score, but after a while someone seems to realise that the game should be over and they call time.

“Will I get us all a pint, then?” Arthur asks Will in an undertone, uncertain whether or not the invitation would be well received.

“Oh, aye.” Will nods at him emphatically, clapping his arm around Arthur’s shoulder. “Let’s have a pint, then. Arthur’s buying.” Will shouts to the guys. As they all limp back across the village he turns to Arthur, smiling. “You know, I think I might’ve been wrong about you all along.”

*

“Gwen, I'm telling you, honestly, it’s nothing. He's only here so he doesn't have to be in London.”

“Did he say that?” Gwen asks. Merlin is on the telephone at the bar area, finally ringing Gwen back after the seventeen or so messages she's left. Arthur and all of Merlin and Will’s friends are drinking heavily, and are being very loud, but Merlin is tucked behind a door and shielding himself from the noise.

“No, but I haven't given him a chance.”

“You're not still mad at him, are you? He was poisoned, Merlin. He would never have acted like that on his own.”

“It doesn't matter.” Merlin can hear the sadness in his voice, and clears his throat.

“Merlin, come on…”

“It doesn't matter.” Merlin repeats, “How's Spain?”

“Fine.” Gwen doesn't sound happy with the change of subject, but allows it. “You'd love it here, Merlin.”

“Well, we can go together sometime, OK?”

“I'd love that! I miss you!”

“I miss you too.”

“Still meeting with that lawyer?”

“Tomorrow morning, aye.”

“Well, call me and let me know how it goes.”

“Of course I will.”

“Oh, I better go, Lance is back.”

“Right, we'll speak soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too, you idiot.”

*

“Alright mate?” Wee Davie asks, headed back to the bar from the toilets. Arthur smiles at him and nods, but doesn’t follow as he returns to the crowd.

Where Arthur is standing he’d been able to hear Merlin’s side of the telephone conversation quite clearly. Of course it was Gwen. When Arthur had seen Merlin running back to the Inn, Arthur had thought at first something was wrong, but no, it had just been Gwen ringing him and he hadn't wanted to miss it.

Arthur hadn't meant to overhear, but he hadn't been able to get away fast enough, and now he wishes he had never come to the bar for another round. He wishes he'd never come to Ealdor. He wishes he'd been born deaf and unable to overhear anyone talking about anything, ever.

It's that bad.

“Love you.” Merlin had said.

They’re in love.

Gwen and Merlin are in love.

Arthur feels sick to his core. He’d thought, he’d based all of his hopes over the past few months on the fact that Gwen and Merlin were just a casual couple; that they would split up before long and then Arthur would make his move.

He had never for one second dared to think they were in love with each other.

Arthur stands for a few long moments, unable to think or speak or move. He suddenly wants to return to London immediately. He wants to never have come to Scotland. He wants no one to have found out that he’d been poisoned so that he could actually hate Merlin. Hate would be preferable to this. Anything at all would be preferable to this hollow, agonising feeling of loss that Arthur is feeling now.

No wonder Merlin was so upset that Arthur had, apparently, sacked him. If he was sacked it would mean that he’d have to leave London, and his love, Gwen, behind. Or, maybe they would make plans to go away somewhere together.

Oh, God, that would make sense, they are practically living together as it is.

What if Merlin was actually pleased at having been sacked so that he and Gwen could move away together somewhere properly? What if he had been planning to use his sacking as an excuse to move his relationship with Gwen to the next level? That would explain his annoyance with Arthur for un-sacking him.

What if they end up married?

Arthur chokes back the sickness in his throat. These thoughts on an empty stomach and too much alcohol are not a good combination. Instead of returning to the bar, Arthur leaves the Inn and heads out into the village.

*

“Arthur?” Merlin calls the name out into the dark village. Arthur had vanished from the bar a good half hour ago, and no one has seen him since. Terrified of being executed, not for his magic, for once, but for losing the heir to the throne, Merlin heads out into the worsening storm to find the future king.

“Arthur!” Merlin calls, if not in a state of pure panic, very close to one.

There is still no answer.

Merlin jogs to the heart of the village where there is a tiny square, a war memorial, and a small, ornamental garden. Everything is covered in snow, including Arthur, who is sitting on a low wall, head in his hands.

“Hey.” Merlin says, pulling up and standing in front of Arthur.

Arthur doesn’t respond. For one heart-stopping second Merlin wonders whether he’s dead or something equally horrific, but then Arthur raises his head. He looks terrible.

“You know it’s snowing, right?” Merlin says.

“Is that what this is?” Arthur asks, looking up into a streetlight to watch the snowflakes fall.

“Aye. Y’alright, Arthur?”

“Fine.”

“Right. Well, it’s freezing out here and Gaius will kill me if I let you die on my watch, so what do you say we head back to the Inn?”

“Will you sit with me?” Arthur sounds very sad. Merlin cocks his head, looking down at Arthur and feeling even closer to panic now.

“Why don’t we go back inside?”

“Please? Just for a minute.”

Merlin brushes the snow off the wall with his bare hands and then lowers himself down to sit next to Arthur. They’re so low to the ground that their knees are almost touching their chests. Merlin wraps his arms around his legs and huddles in closer to himself, trying to keep warm.

“It’s a beautiful village, Merlin.” Arthur says, still looking up and all around himself.

“Aye.” Merlin says, following Arthur’s gaze.

A second later Arthur is resting his head on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin freezes. He’s done everything he can to avoid being alone with Arthur since Arthur arrived in Ealdor. It’s not that he’s still angry, of course he’s forgiven Arthur completely, it’s just that he doesn’t trust himself to keep his distance.

“Is everything alright, Arthur?” Merlin asks, trying to turn his head to see Arthur’s face, but unable to due to the way they are sitting.

“Aye.” Arthur says, imitating Merlin’s accent.

They sit like that for a few moments. Merlin would be lying if he pretended he wasn’t absorbing the feeling of being so close to Arthur so that he never forgot it for the rest of his life. Neither of them speak and then, as if he’s following an unspoken cue, Arthur rises from the wall and begins to walk back to the Inn.

He doesn’t even look behind him to see if Merlin is following.

Merlin watches him go, utterly confused. As he rises himself and heads back to the Inn, he feels a deeper cold on his left shoulder and reaches up to feel that it is damp. It must have been snowing heavier than he thought for his jumper to be damp.

Merlin brushes the falling snow off of himself and then breaks into a light jog, eventually catching up to Arthur just as he’s stepped into the glow of the lamplight spilling out of the door to the Inn.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 24 - Christmas Eve

**Chapter 24**

Christmas Eve passes in a blur. The staff at the Inn are busying themselves preparing for the glut of festive diners that will be filling the restaurant to capacity from lunchtime. Even Arthur has been roped in to help with the preparations, which suits him as it keeps him busy enough to keep his mind off Gwen and Merlin.

He’d attempted to assist the chefs, but had been politely shunted from the kitchen after burning his fourth round of crostini. He’s now seated around one of the tables in the bar, trying his best to help the waitresses prepare for the evening.

“Like this?” Arthur asks, showing one of the waitresses the napkin he’s attempted to fold.

“Oh, aye, that’s lovely!” She says, obviously trying not to giggle. She takes the napkin off Arthur and sets it aside, separate from the pile of those she’s completed. “Actually, I think Isa said they could use a hand hanging fairy lights in the snug, you could…”

Arthur, although feeling rather hurt - he thought he’d done a great job, considering - takes the hint and departs to find Isa. The girls dissolve into helpless giggles the moment he’s out of the room.

If you’d have told him a few months ago that he would be spending his Christmas learning how to fold napkins into swans, he’d have laughed in your face. Laughing to himself about what Uther would say if he could see his son now, Arthur pops his head into the snug to see if Isa is there.

She isn’t, but Merlin is. Seated opposite a man in a dark suit and conversing in harsh, panicked tones. Arthur tries to leave, he really does, but his addiction to the sound of Merlin’s voice is such that he cannot pull himself away. Even considering the last conversation of Merlin’s that he’d overheard.

"You told me twelve months.” Merlin says, livid, from the sound of his voice.

“Not anymore. We’re getting pressure from above to move the sale along. There have been offers, Mr Emrys.”

“Offers? What kind of offers? How can there be offers on the estate when it hasn’t been listed for sale?”

“Well, obviously, people in the area, who are familiar with the situation, know that the property might be for sale.” The suited gentleman finishes, haltingly, as though nervous at Merlin’s response.

Merlin actually pounds his fist on the arm of his chair. The suited man jumps a bit in his seat as though he’s frightened of Merlin. Even given the situation he’s witnessing, Arthur finds it rather comical that anyone could be frightened of Merlin.

“It’s McTavish, isn’t it?” Merlin says, almost spitting the words out of his closed mouth.

“I’m sorry, Merlin, I tried. I tried everything. But these things must follow their natural course.”

“It’s  _ my _ house! It’s my mother’s house!” Merlin says, not raising his voice at all but sounding like he’s shouting. Arthur feels a sudden cold wind as though someone has opened all the doors and windows, but he looks around himself and finds that is not the case. You never do know with these old buildings, though.

“I’m sorry. The offer is in and it stands. You have until the twelfth of January to make a counter offer.”

“That’s less than three weeks!” Merlin says, and this time he sounds like he might cry. Arthur has to resist the urge to barge into the room and comfort Merlin. “I won’t have the deposit saved up by then, not by half!”

“I can try, now when I say  _ try _ , I really do mean try, to delay until the end of January, but I honestly don’t think I can do any more than that.”

Merlin slumps back into his chair like a balloon whose air has escaped. The suited man rises, straightens his jacket and squares his shoulders. He lifts his briefcase and looks down at Merlin.

“I really am sorry, Merls. I did my best.”

“I know, Alasdair. I know.” Merlin sounds utterly defeated. Arthur, turning to make himself scarce before anyone catches him eavesdropping, sees William standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching Arthur with a most curious expression on his face.

Arthur catches Will’s eye and they look at each other for a long moment, then Arthur nods once and rushes off to the kitchen, leaving William to go to Merlin and provide whatever comfort he can.

*

The Prince & Crown is absolutely heaving with people. Merlin wonders whether it has ever been so busy. Word of Arthur visiting must have gotten out, it’s the only explanation. On suggestion from Isa, Jack, Merlin and Will, Arthur (who would not be persuaded to stay in his guestroom), is doing what he can to help in the kitchen and is staying firmly out of sight of the general public.

Merlin is helping the waitstaff in the restaurant. He spends most of the night ferrying plates of  pâté , smoked salmon, roast turkey, and Christmas pudding to what feels like half the population of Inverness-shire. Despite the promise he’d made himself to refrain from using magic at all costs, he may or may not have stopped an entire tray of chipolatas from cascading over a very clumsy waitress. She had been surprised he’d caught it in time, but very grateful, and had resigned herself to refilling water glasses for the rest of the evening.

There is a dicey moment when Auld Wullie lights his beard on fire by leaning over his Christmas pudding before the flames have died out, but his wife, habitually quick thinking, manages to put it out before any damage is done.

The Wilson twins argue over their Christmas cracker prizes until one of them is crying, but Will produces a second miniature pack of playing cards and all is well again. Isa flutters about wearing two different paper Christmas crowns and pulling crackers with anyone who will stay still long enough. Jack keeps catching her under the mistletoe, to cheers from everyone in the room.

Arthur, to Merlin’s confused joy, fits in seamlessly and is actually very helpful in the kitchen. It appears that his years of experience eating fancy meals comes in very handy when plating up portions of Christmas dinner.

Merlin lets himself get swept up in the festivities, temporarily forgetting about his conversation with Alasdair and the fact that, despite his best efforts, he is going to lose his mother’s house. He also tries not to look behind the bar where, usually, his mother would be smiling out at him, proud to see her son helping out. The void of her haunts him, but he does his best not to acknowledge his grief.

Another result of being so busy is that the time flies and they are waving the last customers away with a vague Happy Christmas before Merlin knows quite what to do with himself.

Afterwards, Jack pours all of the staff a generous measure of whiskey and they all traipse, together, out to the front of the Inn where, huddled against the cold, they admire the village in all it’s Christmas glory.

Merlin, in his own humble opinion, has outdone himself. Tiny lights glitter from nearly every tree in the village and the snow blankets everything with a hushed whiteness. As all the staff leave, wishing everyone happy holidays, William reaches out and takes Merlin’s hand. The Christmas lights were always William’s favourite use of Merlin’s magic.

Isa and Jack excuse themselves to their beds, thanking them all again for their help. Arthur has wandered off along the lane to the village, staring around at the lights. William steps closer and moves his arm around Merlin’s shoulders. Merlin, who has tried so very, very hard not to think of his mother tonight, closes his eyes and lets out a silent, strangled sob. Christmas was always her favourite time of the year, and her passing weighs heavy on his heart.

“It’s not the same without her.” Will says, wiping tears from his own eyes.

Merlin is shaking with the effort of holding in all of his grief. Normally he and his mother would be walking home together now, racing one another to the end of the village and taking care down the dark lane towards their house.

After they got home they would make hot chocolate and sit together, warming up after their walk home, huddled on the same chair under the same blanket. Inevitably they would fall asleep there and wake on Christmas morning when the house cooled from the fire going out in the night.

There had never been many presents, but they had always had each other and that had always been enough.

*

Although Merlin is trying very hard not to be heard, Arthur can tell he is crying. His desire to be beside Merlin, to hold him and to comfort him and to make him somehow forget how terribly sad he is nearly overwhelms him, but Arthur takes a step back. He walks away, out into the village, pretending to admire the Christmas lights.

It is not Arthur’s place to comfort Merlin; there are quite a few people in the queue for that job before Arthur’s name would even get mentioned. But, oh, how he wishes it were different.

Arthur moodily kicks his foot into a snow drift and thinks about the series of events that have led him here to Ealdor. He thinks about Merlin's conversation with Gwen that he'd overheard. He thinks about the feeling of continuous heartbreak that he’s lived with since he met Merlin. Arthur considers, not for the first time, if anything can possibly be worth the way he feels right now, the way he felt last night. Then Arthur tries to imagine his life without Merlin. Although they hardly have spent any time together, Arthur has gotten used to the idea that he could run into Merlin at any moment and be surprised again by something inappropriate or remarkable. He's gotten used to Merlin being there, on the edge of Arthur's life, quietly incorporating himself into routine. The thought of all that possibility just  _ stopping _ is enough to make Arthur crazy.

If he were being sensible, Arthur would admit that the intensity of his feelings for Merlin make it seem as though he has no choice. No alternative but to be desperately, painfully in love with Merlin. As though Merlin was the component that had been missing from Arthur's chemistry and only now is Arthur completely  _ Arthur _ , completely whom he was always meant to be. Like the clouds have lifted on Arthur’s life and there stands Merlin, a part of the landscape of Arthur; a part that had been hidden only now revealed.

But Arthur is not being sensible. He's being petulant and hurt and entitled. Why doesn't Merlin love him?  _ Everyone _ loves him. They have to.

Which is probably what draws Arthur to Merlin. He never acts as he should. He doesn't adore Arthur or listen to him or pander to him or, even, sometimes, seem to particularly like him. And it's  _ wonderful _ . It's wonderful to think that whatever Merlin's feelings for Arthur may be, they are entirely his own feelings, unencumbered by rules or tradition or  _ supposed to _ .

Arthur stops kicking the snow and turns his attention to the sky. The night here is much darker than in London and there is a blanket of stars above him. He remembers vividly the sight of the stars the first night he'd gone swimming with Merlin. He also remembers thinking, at the time, that no matter his unrequited feelings for Merlin, just being around him was enough.

Looking up in the darkness Arthur decides, again and again and again, that whatever Merlin can throw at him, he's prepared to take it. Just to be near him.

He also decides that maybe the time has come for Merlin to stop hovering at the edge of Arthur's life.  _ Bring him into your orbit _ , Arthur thinks,  _ so even if he breaks away from you, he won't be able to go far... _

The sound of a door shutting brings Arthur's attention back to the present, and he looks towards the Inn. Merlin stands alone beneath the glow of the porch light, his head bowed and his shoulders hunched as though he’s bearing a great weight. He looks broken. The thought comes to Arthur that none of what he is struggling with is important now. Not now when Merlin is so clearly in need of  _ just a friend _ to pull him back from the edge. Arthur makes his way back, not taking his eyes from Merlin and trying to push his feelings aside. Trying to  _ be  _ just a friend, but knowing as he catches the gleam of moonlight on Merlin’s skin that he is going to fail completely.

“Hey.” Arthur says, his voice a whisper in the night. Merlin looks up, his eyelashes wet. Merlin’s eyes are so incredibly blue Arthur’s heart contracts.

“Hey.” Merlin says, his voice low. Arthur reaches up to brush a tear from Merlin’s face but stops himself at the last possible second, instead taking Merlin's shoulder in his hand.  _ Just a friend. _

“You alright?” Arthur asks.

“No.” Merlin says, and it is the most truthful thing Merlin has ever said to him.

“I know.” Arthur replies, letting go of Merlin’s shoulder.

“I miss her.” The words sound ripped from Merlin, all raw edges dripping with pain.

“You're allowed.” Arthur says, because no one has ever told  _ him _ that.

“I feel like one of your owls.”

“My owls?” Arthur asks, thinking of what he'd said to Merlin that night and also thinking  _ please don't start crying again because I won't be able to stop myself _ .

“I'm falling.” Merlin says, looking down at his feet as though to judge the distance to the ground.

“So fly.” Arthur says, meaning  _ let me catch you _ .

Merlin just stares at the ground, shaking his head. Arthur memorises the shape of his shoulders and the way he can see bones pale beneath the paper thin skin at the back of his neck.  _ Just a friend _ .

They move together then, Arthur taking Merlin into his arms, letting Merlin’s head rest against his shoulder. Merlin’s body shudders as he fights back against his sorrow and Arthur just holds him. Merlin feels as fragile as steam or smoke, and Arthur is afraid to breathe in case Merlin disappears.

Arthur can feel in the embrace the promise of all of his dreams coming true and part of him breaks at the lie of it.

“Happy Christmas.” Merlin says after a while, resting his chin on Arthur’s shoulder and repeating the platitude for the millionth time that night. His voice is utterly hollow, emotionless as he pulls away and turns, leaving Arthur on his own in the night.

Just a friend.

*

Merlin doesn't go up to the room he is sharing with Will. He can't. He settles instead into the armchair before the cooling fire in the snug, pulling a blanket on top of himself and pretending his mother is there beside him.

He hears the outside door open and shut, Arthur coming in, then footsteps up the stairs and down corridors above him. He closes his eyes and sinks into memory.

In his pocket his phone vibrates with a silent ring and he wriggles until he frees the device and answers it, not even surprised.

“Hey.” Merlin says, pulling the blanket higher up to his chin.

“You alright?” Arthur asks, his voice sounding so much more posh over the phone. Merlin curls into that voice and lets it warm him.

“No.” Merlin replies.

“I know.” Arthur says, and the repetition of their earlier conversation comforts Merlin. Merlin can picture Arthur upstairs in his room, where he certainly must be, perhaps shrugging out of his warm Christmas jumper. His cheeks red from his time outside in the snow. “Tell me about her.”

_ No _ . Merlin thinks.  _ I can’t _ .

But then he remembers Arthur’s hand in his outside Arthur’s room in London.  _ “I’m here...to talk if you wanted _ .”

Before he knows it, Merlin is talking. He's telling Arthur about his mother and what she looked like and how she smelled - like bread baking and like sunshine. He's telling Arthur about how kind she was and how she had a smile that could light the darkest days. How she appreciated small rituals and made every day somehow both a surprise and a reassurance. Merlin talks about his mother and Arthur laughs and asks the right questions and only sounds a tiny bit jealous. Merlin talks about his mother and the despair he has felt for months begins to diminish and slip away from him.

After a very long while Merlin winds down and finally comes to the end of everything he needed to say. Arthur is there and still awake and Merlin thinks how silly it is that they're on the phone with each other when they're in the same building together, but at the same time he knows he could not have said any of this to Arthur’s face, and he knows that Arthur knows this, too, which is exactly why they're on the phone.

A loud beeping shrills through Merlin’s ear. Low battery.

“I better go.” Merlin says, wanting to say instead how much the conversation has meant to him. Wanting to say how much  _ Arthur _ means to him and how much he appreciates their friendship. Wanting to ask Arthur to come and join him in the armchair. Wanting to go and join Arthur in bed so Arthur can hold him. “See you tomorrow?”

“Aye.” Arthur says, not even close on the accent. Merlin is actually laughing as he disengages, then he curls himself around his phone and falls asleep in the chair.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 25 - Christmas Day
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

**Chapter 25**

Christmas morning breaks quietly over the village of Ealdor. The snow began falling again in the early morning and everything is covered in pristine whiteness. The view from Arthur’s window out over the partially frozen river and across the rolling hills is astonishingly beautiful.

Arthur feels well rested despite the very late evening. He checks his phone log and sees that he kept Merlin on the line for over an hour. He doesn't know what made him call Merlin last night, but he hadn't been able to just leave him looking so incredibly sad. He'd thought maybe he'd call Merlin just to say, again, if Merlin needed to talk, Arthur would listen. But then Merlin _was_ talking, and Arthur had listened. He closes his eyes at the memory of _Just Merlin_ , who somehow became someone else entirely during their conversation. Someone altogether less guarded. It had been wonderful, even if it was a lie. That wasn't Merlin, not really, but Arthur is still glad he called.

Arthur takes his time rising and getting ready for the day. Around him he can hear the other inhabitants of the Inn showering and dressing as well, the whole building seemingly coming awake at the same time.

Although it is Christmas morning, Arthur has no desire to ring his friends, his cousin, or even his Father. He’ll text them all later if he has time. He hasn't even any desire to be in London, which is a unique feeling for him. His one wish is to see Merlin again as soon as possible. To see if the closeness they shared over the phone will remain when they are face to face. To see if Merlin has had time to rebuild his walls.

He does check in with security but he makes that call as brief as possible. Nimueh has been supervising Valiant and a team of supremely discreet guards all of whom are under strict instruction from Arthur not to bother him even for one second unless the universe is imploding. Nimueh has worked some manner of protective spells, but Arthur has no idea what that entails. Him being in Ealdor is a logistical nightmare for Nimueh and the Royal Protection Command, but funnily enough Arthur doesn't give a toss.

Someone knocks on Arthur's door as he’s deciding whether just wearing his slippers downstairs is too casual, and he tells them to come in without really thinking about it. Which is how Will comes to witness Arthur staring questioningly at himself in the mirror with slippers in one hand and a pair of shoes in the other.

“Happy Christmas!” Will says, giving Arthur a brief smile before saying, “Slippers, definitely.” Arthur nods his thanks and puts the slippers on. Will, he sees, is wearing big, wooly socks knitted red and white in a pattern like candy canes. It is totally incongruous with Arthur's idea of Will and for the first time Arthur can see why Merlin likes him so much.

“Happy Christmas to you too, Will.” Arthur says with genuine affection, striding over to him and shaking his hand. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I know you overheard Merlin and Ali yesterday, the conversation about Merlin’s old house, and I wanted to ask you not to mention it. Not today, at least. I was sort of hoping we could try not to mention his mother at all, actually.” Will scratches the back of his neck, looking totally out of his depth. Something seems off about Will this morning, he seems jittery and unsure of himself.

“That won't…” Arthur starts, but Will interrupts him.

“I know.” Will says, looking firmly at Arthur, “I know she’s all he’ll be thinking about, but I was hoping we could all just pretend…”

Arthur thinks of his talk with Merlin, about how Merlin had cried through most of it without seeming to notice himself crying. He thinks about how he, Arthur, misses his own mother most around this time of year even though she had died before she'd had a chance to weave herself into the fabric of his memories of Christmas. “Nothing we can do will make today easier for him.”

“I know, but I have to try.” There's a desperation in Will’s voice.

“Okay.” Arthur says, after a pause. Will nods solemnly as though they've agreed a pact.

“He’s having a hard time already. He didn't come to bed until late, so he can't have slept much.”

Two things happen simultaneously in Arthur's mind. First, he realises what is wrong about Will; he's scared. He's looking around Arthur's room as though searching for evidence that Merlin was here last night. With Arthur. Second, and more importantly: if Will knows when Merlin came to bed, did this mean he and Merlin were _sharing_ a bed? Arthur's mind is flooded with images of fragile Merlin, vulnerable from his conversation with Arthur, crawling into bed beside Will, maybe curling against him, pushing his head into Will’s shoulder and Will, waking slightly and turning to take Merlin into his arms.

 _Fuck_. If it wasn't one fucking thing it was another. Happy Christmas. Fuck.

“Arthur?” Will says, looking like he's obviously been talking to Arthur the entire time that Arthur has been having his sudden breakdown.

“Yeah?” Arthur says, and he doesn't recognise his own voice. It's too calm, too much like his Father's.

“I just said that Isa and Jack are making breakfast if you wanted to come down.”

Arthur studies Will in an instant, taking note of the worn down curve of Will’s shoulder and the tiredness in Will’s face. The longing. No, if he and Merlin had shared their bed last night it hadn't been in the way that Will wanted. Perhaps it had never been in the way that Will wanted. Unrequited love took a toll on a person, showed as plainly as freckles or sunburn. Will is in love with Merlin, yes, but Merlin does not love him, not in that way.

Arthur starts to feel pity towards Will, thinking that they would probably have a lot to talk about if they cared to, then realises how incredibly stupid that is.

“I'll be down in a minute.” Arthur says, leading Will from his room and shutting the door. He needs a minute to himself to collect all the new information he's gathered.

*

Merlin stares down his own reflection. _Enough_! _Pull it together, Emrys._

He'd allowed himself a complete breakdown in the shower, hoping the sound of water falling would obscure the sound of his sobs. It had felt good to let it all out, but now he can't seem to stop. Every time he thinks he has it together he remembers Christmas when he was five when he'd magicked a bunch of flowers for her and she had been too pleased to even shout at him. Or the last Christmas when she had probably already been ill but hadn't told anyone.

Merlin stares down his own reflection. _Enough!_   _Pull it together, Emrys._

*

When Arthur gets downstairs to the snug he sees that all the tables and chairs have been pulled together around the Christmas tree. Will, Isa, and Jack are setting breakfast. The blanket Merlin had wrapped himself up in last night (not that Arthur had snuck down to see him while they were on the phone together) is still on the armchair. Arthur wonders whether he could surreptitiously wrap himself in that blanket and wear it all day like a token.

Everyone greets each other and says good morning and Happy Christmas, giving hugs and handshakes all around. After a few minutes, Merlin arrives and they repeat the Christmas greetings and hugs, all of them pretending they can't see the redness of fresh tears around Merlin’s eyes. Arthur tries not to pay too much attention to how good it feels to have his arms around Merlin in front of other people, albeit in a completely justified, innocent way.

Without much conversation they tuck into fresh morning rolls with sliced sausage and hot potato scones. It’s delicious and the perfect breakfast for a late Christmas morning. The coffee is terrible, and Arthur and Merlin exchange a look over the edges of their cups, holding back laughs. Arthur would empty the treasure troves of entire Kingdom to make Merlin smile at him like that all the time.

 _How’s that_ just friends _thing working out for you, Arthur? Oh, brilliantly, thanks._ Christ.

The opening of the presents commences after Will has cleared away the breakfast trays. Arthur, erring on the side of caution, had simply bought everyone a book on Merlin’s suggestion, and had George arrange to have them delivered yesterday. It was no good buying Isa a beautiful, expensive necklace if his present was better than the one Will had managed to get her. His deference, he can tell, is appreciated by all involved. His only extravagance had been his gift for Merlin.

“We’ve already exchanged our gifts, though, at Morgana’s party.” Merlin says, looking at Arthur with his eyebrows raised.

“Open it!” Isa urges him, and nudges Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin looks at Arthur a second longer before opening the gift. Arthur wants to press pause on the entire universe and replay Merlin’s reaction over and over again. His eyes light up so immediately and his disbelieving smile is so bright it is enchanting. He holds the book in his hand as though it can’t possibly exist, as though he can’t possibly be holding it.

Arthur watches as Merlin opens the cover of the book and silently reads the title page. His eyes lock with Arthur’s and, for the first time in days, there is nothing but joy there.

“Well, come on then, what is it?” Will asks, trying to see.

“It’s an Advanced Reader's Copy of Neverwhere signed by the author.” Merlin says, his voice raised in excitement.

“Signed?” Isa says, coming to look at the book over Merlin’s shoulder. “It’s not just signed, what does that say, there?”

“It says, _‘Merlin - I’d watch out for doors if I were you. Neil Gaiman’."_

Isa, Jack and Will all exclaim that it’s lovely for Arthur to have gotten Merlin something so personal that he would enjoy so much, but Arthur doesn’t hear them. He and Merlin are still looking at each other, and Arthur is letting himself drown in the impossible blue of Merlin’s eyes. Letting himself, for the moment, imagine them being not only _just friends_. It seems like hours before they are forced to finally look away from one another, and that is only because Will has launched himself at Merlin to hug him in thanks for his gift.

Will passes his gift around and Arthur sees an ink drawing of the exterior of The Prince & Crown. Whoever has drawn it has an excellent eye for detail and a very talented hand. Isa and Jack have been gifted a similarly drawn portrait of Will which is stunningly rendered. Arthur wonders where Merlin has found them, or found someone to draw them, and for a second he wonders how Merlin has afforded them, but the thought passes as he's handed a gift from Isa, Jack and Will.

After all the gifts are opened and everyone has thanked everyone else for how wonderful and thoughtful they are, Isa, Jack and Will retreat into the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea. On his way out of the snug, Will gives Arthur a significant look, as though reminding him of their earlier conversation. _Don’t mention his mother!_ Arthur nods once at Will then turns to watch Merlin as he neatly gathers up the gifts he was given, his hand lingering on the spine of his new book. It gives Arthur an inordinate amount of pleasure to see Merlin so happy with his gift.

Arthur gathers his own things as quietly as possible, wishing he could stay here with Merlin, but knowing that it’s best for him to leave Merlin alone for a while, as the others had, in case he needs time to mourn his first Christmas without his mother. Arthur is nearing the door when Merlin speaks, suddenly and strangely loudly.

“This is for you.”

Arthur turns to see Merlin facing him with his eyes closed tightly, holding out a small, cylindrical parcel wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a red bow. After a few seconds Merlin opens his eyes again, looking deeply embarrassed and extremely nervous. It’s obvious that he’s not sure he should be giving Arthur the gift, after all.

“You didn’t have to…” Arthur says, feeling nervous himself now, as though the feeling is contagious.

“Just open it. Please.” Merlin interrupts, practically begging, thrusting the cylinder at Arthur.

Arthur takes the parcel from Merlin, whose hands are cold and shaking. He unravels the bow and carefully unfurls the scroll of paper he finds within. It is a piece of thick white paper, about one foot high by four feet long and hand-drawn across it is the skyline of London. Arthur’s breath catches in his throat. It is exquisite. His eyes land on St. Paul’s and the details are incredible.

Instantly Arthur is drawn back in time to when he'd stood next to Merlin beside a rooftop swimming pool and looked out over the London skyline. Those nights had been filled with such wonder.

“Merlin, this is…” His voice trails away as he spots landmark after landmark. There’s the Palace, lovingly captured, as though the artist is emotionally involved. “Wherever did you find this? It must have cost you a fortune…”

Arthur holds the paper closer to his face to examine the intricacies. Each building is portrayed in exact detail. Merlin lets out a pent-up breath and Arthur finally looks at him. He looks like someone who has just received very good news after expecting the worst.

“Do you like it?” Merlin asks, and from the look on his face the answer is vastly important.

“It’s incredible, Merlin, really. Thank you.”

Then they are just looking at each other, standing far too close again. Merlin’s face is pale and his eyes are too wide; it makes him look childish and frightened. For the first time since he met Merlin, Arthur doesn’t feel any tension between them, all he feels is Merlin silently reaching out to him, asking to be treated kindly, to be looked after. He wonders if this is the face Merlin wore during their phone call. Arthur sets the scroll gently on the top of his pile of gifts, then reaches out and grasps the sleeve of Merlin’s ridiculous Christmas jumper, drawing him into his arms.

Merlin exhales into the embrace, seeming to almost dissolve and blur at the edges. He feels as fragile as spun glass and just as insubstantial. Arthur holds him, one arm tight around his chest, one hand nestled against the back of his neck. From the kitchen they can hear Isa humming a carol, but in this room it is only they two, their breathing, and the cracking of the fire. Arthur tries to impart some strength into Merlin, as though by osmosis, and maybe it works, for when Merlin pulls away he looks buoyed somehow, as though he has imbibed some courage from Arthur's close contact.

Arthur wonders whether Merlin is on the brink of emotional collapse. Viewed this closely, the cracks are clearly visible. His mother’s passing must be weighing heavier than he's letting on. Arthur had only the vague _idea_ of mother to miss, and none of the memories associated with her as a real person. That made it easier, he thought. He didn't exactly know how to comfort this severity of grief.

Still they look at each other, and still there is that connection between them from which Merlin is drawing his strength.

Then, with the slow progression of thunder rumbling over distant mountains, both of them seem to realise that they are standing only inches apart. And as instant as a lightning flash the tension returns to fill the space between them with longing and uncertainty.

Merlin’s eyes slide away from Arthur's, down towards his mouth, and Arthur moves his own gaze to study the clenching of Merlin’s jaw and the dart of his tongue between his lips.

Arthur knows that regardless of every other confusing thing in his universe there will always be this something between them. This smell in the air like dust after rain. This hair-raising feeling of lightning between clouds. This indefinable _something._

When Will arrives with the tray of tea and shortbread Arthur and Merlin take a step back from each other, Arthur, at least, feeling profoundly relieved to not be alone with Merlin any more. It feels dangerous somehow; too full of possibility to be allowed.

To distract himself from these serpentine thoughts, Arthur takes up the drawing Merlin had gifted him and pretends to study it. Sidelong he notices a look pass between Merlin and Will, a look so leaden and intentioned he feels as though he's eavesdropping again. A lot of what he sees transpire between Merlin and Will is like that.

No one speaks, and after a while Arthur feels his attention return in earnest to the drawing. He spends a good few minutes marvelling at the quality and the craftsmanship, feeling rather like he is at the National Gallery leaning too close to the walls and earning a reprimand from Charlie for not being careful.

It’s interesting that, in all of his careful study, he does not notice Merlin’s signature along the bottom of the drawing.

*

Christmas lunch at The Prince & Crown is a joyful affair, and Merlin lets himself get pulled into the festivities, laughing and genuinely enjoying himself, though there is always the shadow of his mother at the edge of his mind.

Their lunch consists mainly of leftovers from the previous evening's dinners and is eaten over the span of nearly two hours. During this time the wine flows freely and the conversation follows after. Arthur entertains them all by schooling them on foreign etiquette, and telling them stories of diplomats and state dinners. He sends them into transports of laughter with a story of an elderly woman who was hard of hearing, a swan, and a misunderstood hand gesture. Will laughs until Merlin is certain he'll need revived, and Isa’s eyes are streaming with tears.

Jack and Isa tell stories of guests at the inn which he and Will have heard a thousand times, but they are new to Arthur and he seems to enjoy them. Will infuriates Merlin by telling Arthur about Millicent Foster, her terrible crush on Merlin and her wandering hands. He wants to bury himself deep in the earth to avoid the embarrassment, but one look at the humour dancing in Arthur's eyes has him laughing along instead.

When the Christmas Crackers are pulled everyone wins at least one, and they exclaim over the unexpected quality of the prizes. Will looks questioningly at Merlin, but Merlin isn't going to confess to this trickery, not now.

They all donate their paper crowns to Arthur who sportingly dons one atop another until all five of them sit in a crooked stack on his head. He looks rather spectacularly gorgeous sitting there, smiling, letting Isa take a photograph of him in all of his crowns which she promises not to use for advertising, though Arthur suggests that if she frames a copy he'll sign it for her.

By the time they tuck into the flaming Christmas pudding, Merlin is feeling distinctly content and uncomfortably full. Arthur has inserted himself into life in Ealdor so easily it's as though he was born here and, though he knows it was only an accidental poisoning that brought him here, Merlin can't help feeling pleased that Arthur had decided to stay.

*

After Christmas lunch Isa and Jack wander upstairs to take a nap. Merlin and Will head upstairs as well, leaving Arthur to collect his things.

He seeks out his belongings where they are scattered about the snug and the lower floor of the Inn, and sets off to carry everything to his room. He knows that, one way or another, his father will be contacting him soon to advise him that his time in Ealdor has come to an end, so Arthur might as well be ready to leave.

As he passes the room Merlin and Will are sharing he catches sight of Merlin’s dark hair; he can see Merlin through the barely opened door, kneeling beside a duffle bag, his back to Arthur. The rest of the room is reflected in a large, old-fashioned mirror. Arthur is just on the point of knocking when he realises that Merlin isn’t alone. Will is sprawled on the king bed, his feet hanging over the end nearest Merlin. They must be sharing a room, afterall. Arthur is turning to leave (having had enough of eavesdropping to see him through the new year, thank you very much), when he hears his name.

“How did Arthur know to get me _this_ book, though?” Will says, sitting himself up on his elbows and brandishing Arthur's gift.

“Because he asked what you'd like and I remembered you mentioning this a while back.” Merlin says, still kneeling by the bag.

“So, you got it for me, really.”

“No, Arthur did.”

“Aye, because of you, though.”  

“Will, can’t you just be grateful?” Merlin says, rising finally.

Arthur can see just the edges of the scene now. Will gets off the bed and embraces Merlin, who leans into the hug, but as Merlin pulls away, Will kisses him, and it's the sort of kiss that makes Arthur feel like he's witnessing something illicit. Will sinks his hand into the short hair at the back of Merlin’s head, his other hand gripping Merlin’s upper arm almost desperately. Merlin stands rigid, just _being_ kissed rather than kissing back. The kiss is a thoroughly unrequited act, though Will is giving it his all.

Arthur would feel rather sorry for Will at that moment if he didn't want to tear him limb from limb.

“Thank you.” Will says when he finally breaks away.

 _Thank you?_ That didn’t seem like a way friends thank friends, but Merlin isn't blushing or reacting in a way that would show that this is an unusual occurrence. He seems like this behaviour is commonplace, unremarkable, though Arthur, for one, has never been kissed like that by a friend before.

Maybe this is how they thank people in Ealdor?

Something clicks into place in Arthur’s brain and suddenly some of Merlin’s most confusing actions over the past few weeks make startling, dizzying sense.

_This is how they thank people in Ealdor!_

Turning from the room and heading down the corridor as quickly and quietly as he can, Arthur can’t help feeling like an idiot. Like an idiot wearing a giant I'm An Idiot beacon. Merlin's kiss at the pool hadn't meant anything to him, of course it hadn't! It was unremarkable to Merlin which is why he hadn't mentioned it again. He had been thanking Arthur for his advice. And this is how they thank friends in Ealdor. Just another foreign custom.

Back in his own room Arthur laughs, he actually laughs out loud at how stupid he is. He's been leading himself on all this time, thinking that Merlin fancies him but that Gwen got there first, that he just needs to bide his time. That Merlin’s actions (the flirting, the pool, the kiss) proved this. How painfully, childishly stupid.

This realisation, combined with the fact that Arthur knows now that Merlin and Gwen are not casual, but are actually in love with each other, lends an air of utter uselessness to Arthur’s entire plan. It confirms what he has long feared, that he has no chance whatsoever of wooing Merlin. None.

Which pleases him, really, though he knows it shouldn't.

The thing about Arthur is that he's always been a sucker for _really_ slim odds.

*

After a light supper of sandwiches and hot soup, they all retire back to the snug to watch Christmas specials on the telly. William spends some time stoking the fire, and Arthur watches him with mistrust. He’s even more obviously in love with Merlin than Arthur is. Tongue kissing might be the way they thank people in Ealdor, but Will hadn’t only been thanking Merlin, he’d been trying it on with him, Arthur was sure. Arthur had seen this before, had been Merlin in that situation a few times. It might not change the way Arthur thinks of Merlin, but it changes the way Arthur thinks of Will, in any case.

He wonders whether Merlin knows that Will is in love with him. He wonders whether this is something he should _tell_ Merlin. He thinks about what Merlin’s reaction would be. Judging his reaction to this revelation might be the exact way to judge his reaction to Arthur admitting his own feelings…

Arthur has just decided to formulate a new plan when the parlour phone rings. Being the proprietor of the establishment, Isa rises to answer it.

“Good evening and Happy Christmas, thank you for calling The Prince & Crown.” Isa says, very pleasantly. And then she utters a stifled cry and drops the handset on the floor.

Will is up like a shot, running to help Isa in the foyer. Merlin and Arthur lock eyes for a few seconds before joining them. Jack follows, moving slower due to his age.

“What’s wrong?” Will asks, going to Isa and leading her to a chair, she looks like she might faint. Suddenly Arthur knows exactly what’s going on.

“It’s the… the… It’s the...” Isa says, shaking her head and pointing at the phone.

“My father?” Arthur says, comprehension dawning now on all those present. The King is on the phone. Arthur goes to the dropped handset and picks it up.

“Father!” Arthur says, cheerfully, “Happy Christmas.”

“Yes. Hello Arthur. We have a visitor coming who requires your special attention. You will return to London the day after tomorrow. ”

“My special attention?” Arthur asks, his eyes travelling around the room and alighting on Merlin's curious face.

“Yes, and I won't have any arguments. I understand your attachment to that boy, he saved your life, afterall, I won't underestimate the effect that can have, but you have enjoyed this diversion quite long enough. Do you understand me?”

“Yes father.” Arthur says, his temper rising, though he knows to argue would be futile. A diversion? Of course his father would assume he's shagging Merlin, or ‘that boy’, as he's apparently known. His father wouldn't understand the attraction otherwise.

“I will be returning to London after New Year. Please treat our guest well. Oh, and I fear I may have frightened the woman who answered the phone. Apologise for me.”

With that his father hangs up. Arthur stares at the handset for a few moments, wanting to squeeze it into dust in his anger, before replacing it on the base.

*

“You're packing?” Merlin asks, standing in the doorway to Arthur's room.

“Yep. Back to London. King's orders.”

“When? Tomorrow?” Merlin looks as tired as Arthur has ever seen, and sort of fraying at the edges. Arthur picks something up with both hands to prevent himself from embracing Merlin.

“Day after.” Arthur turns from Merlin and puts some things away in his bag. How has he managed to make such a mess of his things in only a few short days? He wishes that someone were here to pack his bags for him - this is usually something George did.

“Oh. Early?”

“I'll try not to wake you.” Arthur says, risking a look back at Merlin.

“Oh.” Merlin is twisting the hem of his t-shirt and looks pretty miserable.

“You can come along, if you like.” Arthur says, before he can stop himself. He freezes for a second with a pile of shirts in his hand, halfway to his bag, waiting for Merlin to answer.

“Oh, um thanks? But I'm here for a while yet.”

“Good, good.” Arthur says. _Good? No it buggering well isn't good! Come back to London with me! Save me from this unknown visitor! I could handle anyone if you were there, too!_

“We're just settling in to watch the Doctor Who Christmas special, if you wanted to join us.” Merlin says, brushing over the awkwardness. “Jack made hot chocolate.”

“Sound good. I'll be down in a minute.”

“OK. See you.”

“Oh, Merlin, wait.” Arthur says, calling Merlin back from the corridor.

“Yes?”

“Do me a favour and stay inside for a while after I leave, please.”

A look of utter confusion crosses Merlin's features and stays there. “Inside? Why?”

“You'll know. And please, I know it might be a difficult task, but try to stop Will from being a dick. Again, you'll know why.”

After Merlin leaves Arthur sends a text to George. He had thought a long time about that text, but had decided to send it. He has no other way to thank Jack and Isa for their hospitality, after all.

Then Arthur dons a worn and comfortable sweatshirt and meanders down to the snug to watch the Doctor Who Christmas special. They have left the most comfortable armchair open for him, and he occupies it. He pulls over himself the blanket that Merlin had slept under the previous night, imagining that it still smells like him and not like wood fire burning. Jack, Isa and Will are piled together on the sofa, Will looking, for all the world, like a small child between them.

Merlin sits on the floor, his back resting against the leg of Arthur’s chair. Arthur tries to pay attention to the program, but Merlin’s arm keeps brushing against his leg and every time he feels that he looks down to see the back of Merlin’s neck and the point where his dark hair curls beneath his collar.

By the end of the program the rest of them are furiously discussing what happened, but Arthur couldn’t even tell you which actor played The Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea whether Mr Gaiman would ever sign a book like that as a request, as I've never met him. I like to think he would, though.
> 
> Also, if I had any artistic talent whatsoever I think I'd try to draw Arthur in his five paper crowns.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 26 - Boxing Day
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

**Chapter 26**

Will departs very early on Boxing Day leaving Merlin snug in bed. The 26th of December is a day for restocking, and Isa, Jack and Will have all gone to Fort William. Merlin is not sad to wake alone; there is a fight brewing between himself and Will, brought on, no doubt, by Arthur's presence in Ealdor, and he’s hoping to delay it as long as possible. 

Merlin takes his time coming to, playing some music on his phone and lying there, not even hardly thinking. Then he remembers that Arthur is somewhere in the building, probably not doing much of anything except being effortlessly beautiful and practically perfect in every way, and Merlin rises, showers, and dresses as fast as possible.

The result of this is that he arrives downstairs with his hair still damp and looking very poorly put together indeed. Something that Arthur surely notices if the look on his face is anything to go by.

“Morning.” Merlin says, smiling at Arthur where he's curled up on one side of the sofa in the snug.

“Barely.” Arthur replies, gesturing at his watch. It's only 9.30, which is, apparently, according to Arthur, barely the morning. “You sleep a lot.” 

“Only when there's nothing else to do. Have you been up long?” 

Arthur just looks at Merlin a little strangely, which makes Merlin worry that his half-put-together state is more not-put-together-at-all, and he runs his hands through his hair checking to make sure he still  _ has _ hair. Arthur has retained one of his paper crowns from the previous evening and is wearing it perched jauntily atop his own perfectly styled hair. Merlin feels startlingly insufficient.

“You missed breakfast, but Isa and Jack left food for you in the kitchen. Sandwiches, I think.” Arthur says. Merlin’s eyes widen. Isa’s signature Christmas Leftover Rolls. He's to the kitchen and back with a plate of rolls before Arthur can mark his place in the book he's reading.

“You  _ have _ to try one of these.” Merlin says, his mouth already full as he shoves a roll into Arthur's hands. Arthur, startled, takes a very tentative bite. Merlin laughs.

“What?” Arthur asks, looking more and more confused by the second.

“You’ve no need to stand on ceremony, you know. It's turkey, stuffing, sausages, and cranberry sauce all on the same roll; it's delicious. Eat.” Arthur still regards the sandwich like it might be poison. Merlin, wondering where his sudden mischievous streak has come from, smiles devilishly at Arthur. “Oh, that's right, I forgot. You're trying to watch your figure. Sorry.” Merlin shakes his head at Arthur and holds out his hand, “Give it here, I'll eat it. Remove the temptation.”

“You'll do no such thing.” Arthur says, defending his sandwich from Merlin, “And I am  _ not  _ trying to watch my figure. Would you stop that?”

Merlin holds his hands up in a symbol of surrender and chuckles to himself as Arthur begins to eat his roll. Once Arthur properly tries it, it's gone in seconds. 

“Wow. That really was good.” Arthur says, reaching to help himself to a second sandwich. Merlin bats his hand away and takes his turn to defend the sandwiches.

“Don't be greedy.” Merlin says, laughing.

Arthur watches him for a while, shaking his head, sending his paper crown wobbling. “I don't know, Merlin,” he says finally, “there's something about you I can't seem to wrap my head around.”

Merlin, considering that a compliment, decides to share the rest of the sandwiches with Arthur, but only when he asks nicely.

*

Arthur doesn’t think he’s ever felt so contented in his life.

Merlin and he have spent the rest of the morning in the snug, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa, munching the last of the sandwiches and drinking terrible coffee. Not really talking to each other; just inhabiting the same space.

It is peaceful, quiet and warming, and soul-crushingly terrifying.

*

Merlin must have dozed off; he wakes to see Arthur far, far too close to him with both of his hands raised towards Merlin’s head. Merlin backs away as much as he can but Arthur’s hands hold him in place.

“Sit still!” Arthur commands, and Merlin obeys. After a few seconds Arthur retreats and scoots back to his own side of the sofa, a childish grin gracing his beautiful face. Merlin reaches up tentatively to touch his hair and finds that Arthur has placed his paper crown on Merlin’s head. He runs his fingers along the bottom edge, settling the crown on his forehead.

“Suits you.” Arthur says, still smiling, but with something in his voice that sounds like glass shattering.

Merlin shakes his head, thinking perhaps Arthur has lost his mind, but he doesn’t take the crown off.

*

After the paper crown debacle, Arthur makes himself scarce. He leaves Merlin curled like a cat on the sofa and retreats to his own room, though there’s really nothing to do here except pace back and forth and call himself an idiot.

What had he been thinking? Merlin had been sleeping peacefully and he had been so beautiful sitting there. Then Arthur’s body had acted without any conscious agreement from his brain and before he knew it he was putting his stupid, stupid golden paper crown onto Merlin’s head. 

Merlin’s hair was as soft as Arthur had imagined.

Merlin’s skin looked so smooth and pale.

Merlin’s lips looked so…

STOP.

Arthur lets loose a string of curses that would make even Gwaine blush, still pacing back and forth across his tiny room.

Then Merlin had been wearing the paper crown and something inside Arthur had broken irreparably.

*

He should have gone to Fort William with Will. He should never have come to Scotland in the first place. He should have done anything in his power to not be alone with Arthur for the entire day. What the hell had he been thinking?

Merlin had thought there would be awkward silences but there weren't. It had been perfect. Painfully so. Arthur curled beneath a blanket with his feet tucked under him? Christ. He looked more comfortable than Merlin had ever felt at The Prince & Crown, though, honestly, Arthur looks comfortable in any room and any situation. Merlin supposes it comes from never encountering anyone who isn't pleased to see you. Merlin wonders briefly what that might be like, and suddenly memories of his mother rear again; she had made Merlin that comfortable, always.

Again Merlin is battered by waves of memory and he feels himself getting swept along. He thought he'd been doing well, but the tide of his grief is so unpredictable… One moment he'll be fine, the next, as now, he'll be struggling to keep his head above the water. Only moments before the crushing drawback which signals a tsunami, Arthur returns from upstairs and catches Merlin’s gaze, the depths of his blue eyes rescuing Merlin from the black depths of despair.

He knows now that he must do what he has been putting off. He had imagined he'd go with Will, but Arthur would do. Might be better, actually.

“Fancy a walk?” Merlin asks, after taking a moment to compose himself. 

“And change out of my slippers?” Arthur replies, wagging his slippered feet in Merlin’s direction, seemingly exasperated. “Oh, I suppose. I'll get my coat.”

“Shoes, too, I hope.” Merlin says, and Arthur flashes him a blinding smile before heading up the stairs. Merlin unfolds from the chair and stretches slowly before going to find his own shoes and coat.

A few minutes later, dressed for the cold weather, Arthur and Merlin make their way across the village and down the lane that leads to Merlin’s old house.

“It looks like it might snow again.” Arthur says, eyeing the mass of dark gray clouds overhead which lend an evening quality to the afternoon. “Is there normally this much snow here in December?”

“More than you'd think there'd be, aye.”

“Hm.” Arthur says, as though Merlin's answer hasn't entirely satisfied him. Which is fair enough, because it's not the entire truth.

“Are you enjoying yourself here in Ealdor?” Merlin asks Arthur, in a wildly transparent attempt to change the subject.

“More than I thought I would, aye.” Arthur answers immediately, his terrifically posh accent making the word “aye” sound almost vulgar. Merlin is reminded of their Christmas Eve conversation and smiles.

“I'm almost glad I was poisoned.” Arthur laughs, nudging Merlin's shoulder with his own. 

“I'm not.” Merlin mutters without thinking then, realising Arthur has heard him, he elaborates, “I'm glad you're here, don't get me wrong, I just wish we could have skipped the poisoning.”

They walk a short way in silence and in the vastness of all of the things Merlin isn't saying the sound of their feet crunching through snow encrusted gravel sounds incredibly loud.

“Can you tell me now what it was that I said to convince you I hated you?” Arthur asks, more serious than usual.

Merlin doesn't want to talk about this now, but it's preferable to thinking about his mother and the fact that this might be the last time he sees his childhood home, so he answers. “You told me to go.”

“To go?” Arthur asks, turning towards Merlin, who stares resolutely forward, “to go where?”

“You ordered me to leave. To ‘ _ run away home to Scotland _ ’.”

“And you were going to listen to me? Just like that? After…” 

Either Arthur sounds hurt or the increasing wind has distorted his voice. 

“After what?” Merlin asks.

“Nothing.”

“After what, Arthur?” 

“I thought we were friends, I guess.” Arthur says, and he does definitely sound hurt. 

“Don't you see how I can't make that call, Arthur?” They're walking steeply downhill now, following a sharp curve of the road towards the water's edge. “And, no, I wasn't.” Merlin says after they've turned the final corner.

“Wasn't what?” Arthur asks, as though he's forgotten what they're talking about.

“Wasn't going to listen to you. I was always coming back.”

“Oh.”

“Aye. Basically I told you to please yourself but if you wanted to sack me you'd have to go through Gaius.”

Arthur laughs then, his voice ringing out over the water and Merlin smiles, hoping they can finally put this subject to rest between them.

*

They walk together in silence for half a mile. Though the wind is fierce and snow is beginning to fall against the frozen edges of the water, all Arthur can think is how stunningly beautiful the landscape is. It is as unpredictable and unprecedented as Merlin himself, and Arthur can see within the boy the evidence of his formative years spent here in this wildness.

He couldn't pretend not to be hurt by Merlin’s words earlier, and confused by how adamant Merlin had been. What did that even mean, Merlin can't make the call? Surely they both have a choice whether or not to be friends? Why wouldn't Merlin have a choice? Was Arthur that unapproachable? That  _ inhuman _ that he would order his contemporaries to either be his friend or not? Lance would say no, but more than likely Percy and Gwaine would say yes. Leon would wait to see what Arthur wanted him to say, and then pretend it was his own opinion all along. 

It lends credence to Arthur’s theory that Merlin is mainly being friendly with him out of a sense of duty.

Just as Arthur has decided to ask Merlin if they should turn around, the snow is falling rather harder than it had been when they left, Merlin comes to a standstill, looking very white faced and completely breakable. The sight of that vulnerability frightens Arthur and he looks around for the source.

They've followed the road slightly inland now and, to their right, nestled in the thick trees between them and the water’s edge, is a tiny, white painted, stone cottage. It can't be more than a few hundred square feet, twin chimneys at each end, with two square windows equidistant from a gray wooden door.

Beside him, Merlin is standing with his eyes closed very tightly, breathing in and out through clenched teeth. It looks like he's trying to calm himself down from the edge of rage or panic. Around them the wind grows stronger and the snowfall quickly becomes a blizzard.

Without a thought to the appropriateness of his actions or how they might be interpreted by an outsider, Arthur reaches out and takes one of Merlin’s hands into both of his, uncurling Merlin’s impossibly long fingers and linking them with his own. Merlin's hand is inexplicably warm in his grasp, and the warmth leeches into Arthur where their skin touches.

In the distance, out over the water, a crack of thunder echoes mournfully. As the wind calms and the snowfall subsides between them, Merlin opens his eyes.

*

The gesture of Arthur's hand in his does not feel unexpected or uncomfortable, it just feels like exactly what was always going to happen. Merlin's emotions are raw, elemental and untamable, but Arthur's cold fingers twined in his grounds him.

He locks eyes with Arthur for only a moment before letting his gaze slip to the building over Arthur's shoulder. His home. It looks unchanged, though the remnants of his last loss of control will be buried deep beneath the snow. The grass would certainly still be dead from when he had tried, impossibly, to bring her back to life. He remembers the sound of the grass underfoot as the paramedics had arrived. He remembers the look of her face so small and pale on her pillow that morning he woke up and couldn’t wake her.

In an instant Merlin feels as though his foundations have sundered, and he collapses into a kneeling position, feeling the breath exit his body as though it's being sucked from him. An unending reel of images plays before his eyes: the whiteness of her face, the frailty of her wasted body, the coroner's signature on her death certificate, the thinness of her fingers as he removed her rings before her cremation, the emptiness of their home when he returned there, utterly alone, the strand of hair she left behind on her pillow, the boxes of her things on their way to the charity shop, her letter to Merlin, the last gift she'd given him, her tear splashes on the paper; her final goodbye.

Arthur is kneeling before him now, shouting his name and, gently, shaking his shoulders. Suddenly Arthur is all Merlin can see: the panic in his blue eyes, the worry written on every feature of that perfect, beautiful face, the frightened and determine set of that jawline.

Around them the wind, which had been whipping painfully, quiets to absolute stillness.

“Jesus, Merlin! Can you even hear me? I don't think this is a good idea. Maybe we should leave. You can come back another time with… With someone better... With Will, maybe?”

By way of an answer Merlin brings them both back to their feet and, grasping Arthur's hand like a lifeline, he leads him past the gate, into the garden and to the front door. 

*

Arthur is still panicking. He'd thought Merlin was going to collapse into some sort of catatonic episode. As he struggles to bring his breathing back to normal all he can picture is the look of unending pain in Merlin's eyes. What must it be like, to return here to the house where his mother had died? Where he'd discovered her? If he'd known this was their ultimate destination he'd have insisted that William come with them. Arthur is not remotely qualified to support Merlin through this most difficult situation, and there aren't many things in life for which Arthur lacks qualifications.

So why is he still here letting Merlin lead him through the door of his childhood home? He looks down at his fingers intertwined with Merlin's, the younger man holding on like Arthur is the safe place in tag, and he has his answer: total and utter selfishness.

With Merlin beside him, seeming not to breathe in his anticipation, Arthur enters the house.

They enter a small hallway with a staircase in front of them leading up. The only light comes through the small, square window in the front door which Merlin has shut behind them. There are three doors, one to the right, one to the left, and a small one under the stairs which is open, revealing a tiny cupboard. Merlin pauses, breathing deep, squeezing Arthur's hand painfully tight.

“It smells like home.” Merlin says, as though the words are being pulled from him against his will.

He leads Arthur through the right hand door into a combination kitchen and living area. There is a large fireplace on the far wall, and an old fashioned cooking range. There is a threadbare rug on the wooden floor, but no furniture. The window at the rear of the house looks out onto the rocky delta where the river meets the loch. The sound of water tumbling excitedly over itself dominates the landscape.

Without another word Merlin walks out of the room and up the stairs, Arthur struggling to keep Merlin's hand in his on the narrow, twisting stairway. At the top is what must be Merlin's room, tucked into the eaves of the house. It is a very small, very light space with one rear-facing window and not much room for anything else. There are gouges in the floor from where the posts of a single bed once sat. Merlin kicks at one with the toe of his shoe.

Across the landing is the shower room, with a small door to what must be a loft on the other side of the house.

They head back down the stairs and stand for a while outside the only unopened door. Arthur steps closer to Merlin, letting their arms and shoulders touch, wanting to convey without words that he understands how difficult this must be.

“This is her room.” Merlin says, his voice so quiet Arthur has to strain to hear him, even in the silence. “This is where I found her.”

Before Arthur can insist that maybe they come back another time, Merlin has gone through the door.

For one brief, dazzling second Arthur gets a mental image of what the room may have looked like before it's occupant had died. Light and airy with an oak bed covered in a white quilt and pale blue pillows, an old rocking chair in the corner with a blanket on it, a small table with a lamp and a book with the page turned down. A fire burning warmly in the hearth.

Arthur anticipates the collapse this time and follows the boy to the floor, wrapping his arms around Merlin's shaking shoulders. Merlin's sobs are entirely silent, only the sound of his ragged breathing betrays him, and the shaking, which is so violent Arthur fears the boy may come apart at the seams. Which, he supposes, is exactly what is happening.

*

“I'm sorry.” Merlin says, his breathing still unsettled. He and Arthur are sitting beside each other on the wide window ledge, their backs to the falling snow.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Arthur says, honestly.

It had taken a lot of coaxing to bring Merlin back to him, but Arthur had persevered. He can't help but remember how young Merlin is. He's only two years younger than Arthur, but they are important years. Merlin was barely seventeen when his mother died, and she was his entire life. Of course he was allowed to fall apart.

“I'm sorry about all of this.” Merlin says quietly. “Not exactly the sort of Christmas you’re used to.”

“Well, you're right there.”

“It's not exactly the kind of Christmas I'm used to, either.” Merlin says and Arthur knows he's thinking not of his royal visitor, but of his mother.

“Would you tell me what they were like? Your Christmases here?” Arthur asks, trying to keep his voice low.

“Quiet.” Merlin says, looking down at his feet, “Warm.”

"My Christmases are never quiet.”

“This one was.” Merlin says, his voice breaking over a stray hiccough. He extricates himself from the window ledge and walks away towards the door. Arthur follows him, unsure of what to say.

In the end he settles on nothing, he just walks back to the village beside Merlin in the still of the gathering dusk, feeling the weight of unspoken words between them.

*

“What the hell were you thinking going out there on your own?” Will says, still yelling at Merlin.

“I wasn’t  _ ‘on my own’ _ , I was with Arthur.” Merlin defends.

“Oh, aye, that’s a good plan, bring the crown prince with you to witness your complete emotional breakdown. Bet he loved that.”

Merlin has nothing to say to this. If Arthur had wished to be elsewhere, it hadn’t been obvious to Merlin. 

“David says there was thunder, too.” Will says, not letting the subject rest. “What do you suppose that meant? Thunder on a snowy day.”

“I only lost control a little.” Merlin lies, knowing that Will knows the truth whether he admits to it or not. “Also, Davie’s spying on me now?” Merlin tries, but Will does not rise to the bait. “Look, you weren't here and I needed to go today. What choice did I have?”

“If you had told me you were planning to go to your house I would have stayed here.” Will says, but the anger has left his voice, and Will collapses backwards onto their bed. Merlin knows his telling off is finished, for now.

“I’m sorry, Will. I needed to go, and I needed to go then. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come along, but I needed to go on my own, and going with Arthur was the next best thing. He didn’t know her. It was easier that way. I’m sorry.”

Merlin slides next to Will on the bed and rests his head on Will’s shoulder. The older boy encloses Merlin in a friendly hug, breathing heavily out through his nose so his annoyed huff is completely audible. Merlin smiles. Trust Will to get jealous of Arthur in a situation like that. What an idiot.

Though, Merlin supposes he had needed Arthur to see the house, really. To show Arthur exactly where he'd come from without having to explain out loud about the poverty. He'd  _ wanted _ Arthur there. He couldn't tell Will that, obviously, but it was nice to admit it to himself in any case.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 27 - In which Merlin returns to London and meets Arthur's special guest and Arthur decides to execute The Plan.
> 
> No chapter specific tags. Translations - "Hogmanay" is the Scottish word for New Year's Eve.

**Chapter 27**

The next morning Merlin is woken by a rather panicked Isa (who still hasn't recovered from talking to the King on the telephone) telling both Will and Merlin that they  _ must _ come and help her. When they get downstairs it is immediately obvious why: every tabloid reporter in the United Kingdom is here.

Merlin doesn't even make it to the bottom of the stairs. He remembers Arthur's request to stay out of sight and reverses up the stairwell, grabbing Will’s arm on his way and dragging him backwards with him. 

“What the hell?” Will says, indicating his arm.

“Arthur asked me to stay out of sight.”

“He  _ knew _ about this?” Will says, indignantly. Merlin sighs loudly in a very exasperated way.

“Think about it, Will.” 

After a few long moments, it dawns on Will, too. “Oh! He did this on purpose.”

“Yes. Imagine how busy we'll be now that people know Arthur spent his  _ Christmas _ here.”

“Oh, God.”

“Exactly.” Merlin says, letting Will go. “Now, please don't be a dick, OK?”

“I promise nothing.” Will says, looking over his shoulder with a smile as he descends the stairs. 

*

Arthur knew he was running a risk calling the papers, but it had all worked out, so far. All of the stories he's read are fronted by the picture he'd practically posed for outside the Inn and mention the Ealdor but not Merlin. That was what Arthur had wanted. Hopefully this will mean increased business for Isa and Jack and Arthur's real motives for being there can stay his own private business.

Now all he needs to do is entertain his father’s “special guest” for a few days, and after that he will begin to implement his new plan.

All in all it will be a very interesting new year.

When he gets to his Father’s office and learns that their special guest is Edwin Muirden Arthur’s heart plummets. Though he has no evidence to suggest it, he's sure Edwin is one of his Father’s supposed  _ Dragon Lords _ \- it's the only reason his father would set him up like this, and Arthur seriously can't be arsed.

When his mind full to bursting with images of Merlin and his blue eyes and his smile and the way his laugh sets Arthur on fire, pretending to be remotely interested in any other human being on the planet is the absolute last thing Arthur wants to do.

Still, his Father seems particularly eager, and Edwin Muirden is a very famous, very wealthy, and well-travelled actor. Maybe he'll be interesting and Arthur can pass their days together in polite conversation. Maybe it will distract Arthur from spending every second of every day trying to think of a way to get rid of Guinevere Smith that won't make Morgana skewer him and parade about town with his head on a spike. 

*

Merlin and Will are leaning shoulder to shoulder against the foot of the bed in the King Suite drinking cans of lager Will had liberated from McTavish’s garage fridge. Merlin’s bags are packed and he's heading back to London in a few hours. It's more than a week before he'd meant to go, but with a new deadline of mid-January by which he needs to sell his software, he figures he'd better get to work.

“If you don’t try ta shag him at least once you've no right to call yersel a gay man.” Will says to Merlin.

“What’re you oan about?” Merlin asks, rolling his eyes and helping himself to another drink. 

“He's fit, mate.” Will says, as though Merlin’s completely daft.

“Aye, I ken that.” Merlin replies, as though Will is the one who’s completely daft. 

“So…?” Will says, nudging Merlin’s shoulder rather harder than necessary.

“What happened te  _ ‘he's yer boss, Merls’? _ ”

“Was you who said that.” Will points out, truthfully.

Merlin curses under his breath. He's running out of excuses and he knows it. As Will has delighted in pointing out,  _ Arthur came to Scotland, for fuck’s sake _ . He'd come after Merlin and stayed - for days. You didn't do that unless your hormones were involved at least a little, right? 

Merlin closes his eyes and remembers their  _ closeness _ and how right it had felt for Arthur to just  _ be there _ all the time. He feels a smile bubble up out of his chest almost against his will, but it is chased away by longing.

“I don’t want te jest shag him, but.” Merlin says, feeling himself blush just saying it out loud. Merlin definitely doesn't only want to shag Arthur, he wants to live inside Arthur's bones. 

“Aye, ah ken, but it's a good place te start isn't it?” Will says, surprisingly kind.  

“I think we're pals noo, but.”

“Merls, Arthur is  _ my _ pal noo, and I’ve only kent him fer a few days. He's no’ jest yer pal.”

“Leave off, Will.” Merlin says, hitting his shoulder back against Will’s as Will laughs. Merlin waits until Will has stopped laughing then takes a long drink. “Is it worth it to risk everything just on the off chance?”

Will, perhaps sensing the seriousness of the question, takes his time answering, but bursts into laughter just the same. “Aye, it is.”

Merlin catches Will’s laughter and carries on. “I'm gonna go fer it.” Merlin decides suddenly, feeling sick and giddy. Will whoops loudly and jumps up from the floor doing a vulgar dance and thrusting his hips about like a lunatic.

Merlin laughs and downs the rest of the can before cracking open another one. If he's going to admit his feelings to Arthur he's going to need to spend the intervening time at least a little bit drunk, otherwise he might change his mind.

*

He’d gone from Edwin Muirden to Edwin  _ fucking  _ Muriden in about seventeen seconds. After three days in his company Arthur is considering petitioning to reinstate public hangings. Muirden may be attractive,  but he's vapid, useless, entitled, and depressingly unintelligent. On top of that he's just about the slimiest bastard Arthur has ever had the displeasure of meeting. Most likely he hasn't said a truthful word to Arthur since they met, preferring, instead, to manipulate, embroider, and do precisely enough research on any given topic to convince someone he's interested long enough to get what he wants. 

Still, Uther wants them to appear pally, and Arthur knows the difficulty of arguing with his father over the telephone, so Arthur simply bites his tongue and gets on with it.

*

Three days after Arthur leaves Ealdor, Merlin returns to London. He's come straight from the train station to the Palace, lugging his bags, having taken the sleeper from Glasgow the previous evening. “Sleeper” being a gross misnomer in part due to the misassignment of Merlin’s berth landing him smack in the middle of a stag party on their way to London for the weekend, and in (larger) part to said stags being in possession of his favourite whiskey.

Being slightly tipsy is, after all, exactly how Merlin had planned on starting his day, and he'd been rolling with it until just after entering the security gates when he practically walks into not only Arthur (out running and looking like a fitness model), but also his companion, Edwin Muirden, the Hollywood A-lister.

Merlin almost swallows his tongue in surprise.

Still, he keeps it together, managing to speak in complete sentences, managing to be fairly polite, until he witnesses the completely unashamed way that Edwin Muirden touches Arthur's face, and the way that Arthur blushes and turns into the touch, a secret smile playing on his lips.

It is quite obvious that Arthur has been giving his guest  _ very special attention _ indeed.

Merlin excuses himself then races to his room where he spends the next hour or so throwing up in the toilet.

Edwin Muirden.

Edwin fucking Muirden.

What are the fucking chances.

*

“Of course I've seen the fucking papers, Will. Christ, what do you think? I  _ live _ here for fuck’s sake. No I don't know if they're fucking each other and I don't fucking care. What the fuck’s it got to do with me? Oh, you can fuck right off, mate. No I'm not in fucking love with him, he's a fucking prick. I've got to go, I've got fucking work to do.”

*

“Hey, Merls. Will text me. He's worried about you. Says you're speaking in sentences composed entirely of F-bombs. What's up?”

“Read the papers, Gwen.” Merlin says down the phone, wishing Gwen were here in person and not abroad with Lance. If there was any time in his entire life when he could use her calming sanity, that time is now.

“That Edwin Muirden stuff?” Gwen says, distractedly. “Rubbish. They're always hooking him up with somebody. Has he invited you to Hogmanay?”

“Yes.” Merlin replies with as little enthusiasm as he can muster. “It's at The Club but I'm not going.”

“Why not?”

“Nothing to wear.”

“I’ll send my tailor.” Merlin hears from the background of wherever Gwen is, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“Lance says he'll send his tailor.” Gwen clarifies, which only makes Merlin feel worse. 

“Lance says? You haven't told him have you?” Merlin asks, feeling quite on the brink of a panic attack.

“Of course not!” Gwen says, earnestly, then she begins whispering. “No names, I promise.” After which Gwen giggles and Merlin hears a door shutting. “Though he did say you should just Let It Go? Whatever that means. Also Hogmanay is open bar.”

“Fine.” Merlin says, deciding he and Gwen’s friendship will survive another day. “Have Lance send his fucking tailor. Fuck.”

“Language, Merlin! Try to have some fun. Snog someone for me?”

“Ha ha bloody ha.” Merlin says, pressing the end button on his phone just as Gwen says, “Love you!”

*

By the last day of December Arthur has decided it's really not worth it. He deliberately avoids Edwin fucking Muirden, and he lets his father know just that. Or, at least, he's tried to get in touch with his father multiple times but has only been told that The King would prefer Arthur to maintain an illusion of closeness. The idea of it is enough to make Arthur gag, but he hasn't much choice and in the end he condescends. As soon as his father is back in the country Arthur will talk to him in person and demand that Edwin Muirden be banished from the kingdom.

Then Arthur will get tested for any and all known STDs, because Edwin fucking Muirden seems diseased enough to cause infection from close proximity. Arthur has mostly avoided contact except for the morning when they'd met Merlin out running. He tries to laugh off the memory of Edwin’s fingers on the skin of his cheek, but all he can think about is the look of disgust on Merlin’s face at the gesture.

But Arthur has a plan which will hopefully erase Edwin fucking Muirden from everyone's minds - even his father’s.

On New Year’s Eve Arthur manages to escape Edwin’s company for nearly the whole day, which gives him time to put the final touches on his plans for the night. Merlin has RSVP’d yes to Arthur's invitation, which is Step One of The Plan. Step Two is proving to Merlin that Arthur and Edwin’s relationship is a tabloid fabrication. Step Three is being Gwaine. For the night, at least.

Arthur has been thinking about The Plan since Christmas. Actually, he’s probably been thinking about The Plan since Morgana’s Christmas party, since the night that Gwaine made such a fool of himself and no one bloody cared. 

Yes, step three is Be Gwaine.

*

As they exit the car outside The Club, Arthur pauses just long enough to give the paparazzi time to capture a few images of he and Edwin Muirden laughing together on their way into the building. Once they are inside Arthur increases the space between them, not necessarily enough for Edwin to notice, but enough to show anyone watching closely that they are not, in fact, a couple.

Champagne tray wielding waiters appear as if from nowhere and Arthur grabs two glasses, but does not give one to Edwin, who frowns at him for an instant before replacing his A-List smile. Arthur does a quick scan of the room and sees the person for whom the second glass is intended. Merlin is standing at the bar in a criminally well-tailored suit, head thrown back, laughing at something Percy has said. His hair is perfectly imperfect and his eyes shine with mirth and with what is, hopefully, a few drinks. Step Three of the plan will work much better if Merlin is drinking, too.

Sidestepping a few well-wishers, Arthur heads straight for Merlin, Edwin trailing along beside him. He's just about to grab Merlin and snog him senseless when he remembers the room full of witnesses and at the last possible second Arthur manages somehow to not be too obvious with his intentions.

“Percival! Merlin!” Arthur says, clapping his hand on Percy's shoulder, “Good to see you both. This is Edwin Muirden, who is staying at the Palace as a guest while filming on location in London. Edwin, Percy is the acting director of a major London children's charity and an old school mate of mine. Merlin, whom you met the other day, is on loan to us from bonnie Scotland, working with Gaius on a mysterious project which no one knows much about but which seems to keep him very busy.”

Edwin shakes hands with them both, but his fingers linger, as everyone's seem to, on Merlin's wrist just a fraction of a second too long. Arthur wants to murder Muirden with his bare hands, even in front of all these witnesses.

“Good to see you again, Edwin Muirden.” Merlin says without smiling. Arthur notices that his accent is already slightly stronger than normal - a good sign.

“Likewise. And I must say you're looking very well.” Edwin’s voice has gone low and Merlin blushes but looks pointedly away from Edwin, locking eyes with Arthur briefly before looking down with a demure smile. Arthur wants to eat him alive. It is encouraging that Edwin Muirden (of all people) is obviously attracted to Merlin, it somehow justifies Arthur's own feelings. It is also encouraging that Merlin is just as obviously not attracted to Edwin. Perhaps sensing this, Edwin turns his attention to Percy instead and begins to spout some nonsense flattery. Arthur laughs and shakes his head.  _ You're barking up the wrong tree there, mate. _

“Percy, I'm interested to hear what you think of Lord Clayson’s budgetary reformation ideas and their probable impact on children living below the poverty level.”

Everyone but Arthur seems surprised at Edwin’s knowledge of Percy’s pursuits. Percy seems pleased and turns towards Edwin to continue the conversation. 

“While I believe there is a strong foundation for change…”

Arthur tunes them out and starts up a conversation with Merlin instead. “I'm glad you came.”

“Aye, well I wasn't going to, but it's an open bar.” Merlin smiles, letting his eyes twinkle. “Though, if I'm honest, this suit cost more than I'd be able to drink in a night.”

“Well, you could try…” Arthur chuckles, finishing his champagne and picking up a second glass which the attentive bartender has placed within his reach. Arthur swallows and debates with himself again whether or not he’s actually going to go through with The Plan. Before he’s decided properly he’s already speaking, his words making his mind up for him. “Though I’ve got to say I think the suit was worth whatever you paid. You look good?” The last word is a question. Arthur looks down at where his fingers clasp the delicate stem of the crystal glass. 

“Good?” Merlin asks, and Arthur can hear a smile in his voice, which makes him look up to see Merlin tilting his head, eyes bright.

“Good.” Arthur says, definitively, as though he’s only just decided. “Incredible, actually.”

And there it is. There’s no way that can be interpreted as something Just A Friend would say. Arthur takes a long sip of his champagne and feels Merlin’s eyes on him. 

“They poison you again?” Merlin asks, but he's blushing again and it makes Arthur smile. 

“Maybe, but that wouldn't change how you look.”

“Aye, only how you see me.”

“I always see you, Merlin.” Arthur says, entirely without regret. Merlin narrows his eyes at him and inhales as though he's about to speak.

“And Merlin, what can you tell me about this project you're working on? Is it something that might interest me?” Edwin, having given Percy up as a bad job, turns his attention back to Merlin and smiles his A-list smile at him.

“No, probably not.” Merlin says, and then, turning as though he's heard someone behind him call his name, he excuses himself.

“I told you it's mysterious, didn't I?” Arthur says, watching Merlin walk away. Beside him Percy laughs at the put-out expression on Edwin’s face and Arthur turns back to the bar, smiling.

He throws back another drink and then a fourth in quick succession. After that he secretly asks the bartender to either water his drinks down a lot or give him drinks that only look like, but don’t contain any, alcohol. 

Begin Step Three.

*

Arthur has clearly had far too much to drink in far too short a time. He has abandoned Edwin Muirden, who has predictably found solace in a very willing Gwaine's company; the two of them have been twined together in a dark corner for nearly an hour. Arthur, meanwhile, is flirting his way indiscriminately across the entire room.

Merlin, who is purposely remaining sober enough to get up for work the next morning, feels duty-bound to look after Arthur and prevent him from copping off with someone stupid. Like Leon, who has a girlfriend, or anyone from the startled waitstaff.

“How pissed is he?” Percy smiles at Merlin, smelling rather intoxicated himself.

“He told me my eyes are like sapphires.” Merlin says, as though admitting this to someone will make the moment less surreal. Percy laughs very loudly.

“Well, they are  _ very _ blue.” 

“Shut up!”

“He introduced me to someone as his ‘Jolly Giant’.”

“Well, you  _ are _ very big.” Merlin laughs.

“Shut up!” Percy says, cuffing Merlin's shoulder with his own. Merlin is almost drunk enough to stagger.

“What are we going to do?”

“Get him home. Now.” Leon says, appearing beside them. “He just asked me if Soph would be up for a threesome.” 

Merlin and Percy laugh immoderately. Arthur must really be properly drunk if he's trying to bed his best friend AND his girlfriend. 

“Right, I'll take him.” Merlin says, “I've got to be up in the morning anyway.”

“On New Year's Day? Gaius sure is a slave driver.” Leon says, grasping Merlin's shoulder in a conspiratorial way. “OK. There's a car outside. Keep your head down and text me when you get him home. And, Merlin, be careful. If he's trying to get  _ me _ into bed, he's going to be a handful.”

Merlin agrees to do his very best.

“Now that we've sorted Arthur out, can I please have another drink?” Percy says and, just like that, Merlin gets to go home with Arthur.

*

He'd gotten the idea from Gwaine, of course. From his lascivious behavior at the Christmas party and how easily their friends had brushed off his advances on Merlin. It had been handled like a joke after Gwaine had ruefully and publicly apologised to Merlin. Arthur was counting on the same thing happening again. He was going to make a pass at Merlin and, if the unthinkable happened and Merlin turned him down, then a few days later Arthur would apologise, blame the alcohol and hopefully be able to move on a bit from being so madly in love with Merlin. 

If he made a pass at Merlin and Merlin reacted positively then Arthur would admit to faking the drunken behaviour and Merlin would laugh. Sure, they would still have Guinevere Smith to deal with, but  _ Arthur _ wouldn’t be cheating on anyone, right?

So Arthur goes about his evening pretending to be very drunk and counting on getting a chance to corner Merlin somewhere - maybe in a bathroom stall. He certainly doesn’t count on getting sent home before the bells with a mostly sober Merlin, but it is much to his benefit this way.

“Christ, Arthur, how much did ye drink?” Merlin asks, helping Arthur fasten his seatbelt. Arthur relishes the feel of Merlin's hands against his hip and pushes into the touch. “Sit. Still.” Merlin frustrates, finally clicking the buckles. “Right, he's in let's away.”

Merlin buckles his own belt on the move, the driver clearly eager to get Arthur back to the Palace. Arthur leans into Merlin on every advantageous sharp turn, and halfway home he rests his head on Merlin’s shoulder and leaves it there. Merlin runs his hand lightly over the edge of Arthur's face, a friendly gesture, but Arthur's skin tingles with anticipation 

“You’ve to be mair careful, Arthur.” Merlin whispers, as though expecting Arthur not to hear him, “You're in quite a state. Anything could happen.”

“’m safe with you.” Arthur slurs.

“Aye, well, I widnae be too sure about that.” Merlin says, his voice impossibly low, and his hand at Arthur's throat. Desire explodes in the pit of Arthur's stomach. Merlin’s fingers linger only a few seconds longer on Arthur’s skin before they are drawn away again, leaving the ghost of the feeling behind. Arthur bites back any response, preferring instead just to soak in the feelings, the closeness. 

Too soon they are back at the Palace, pulling through the gate and up to the most secluded entrance. Merlin declines assistance from the driver and manages to pull a resistant Arthur out of the car and help him up the stairs into the building.

Arthur clings to him, wrapping his arms around him and leaning with most of his weight. He makes a show of introducing himself to one of the guards, and then again to a suit of armour. Merlin just keeps cursing at him, his vocabulary getting more and more vulgar as they make their way clumsily to Arthur's room. 

Eventually Merlin gets Arthur through his chamber doors. Arthur, throwing his suit coat on the floor, makes a line for his liquor cabinet and, before Merlin even has both doors shut, Arthur has poured them both a whiskey, making sure to spill some rather conspicuously.

“Fuck, Arthur, stop.” Merlin says, realising at last what Arthur is up to. He wrestles Arthur's whiskey out of his hand and sets it on the bar. He turns Arthur towards the bathroom and gives him a gentle nudge, but Arthur watches out of the corner of his eye as Merlin throws back the drink Arthur poured for him. 

As Merlin helps Arthur pour and drink two glasses of water, Arthur makes a point of leaning into him as much as feasibly possible. Merlin, who is stronger than he looks, stands up well under the pressure.

“Right. Bed.” Merlin says, pointing Arthur towards his bedroom. Arthur follows, giggling wildly. “What is so funny?”

“You coming to bed with me, Emrys?” Arthur giggles, feeling reckless and exhilarated.

“Oh, aye.” Merlin says, rolling his eyes and swearing under his breath. “You'd get the shock of yer life in the morning, mate. Expectin’ Muirden and there's ma face on tha pillah.”

Here it is, then, Arthur's chance to plant the seed. He smiles at Merlin and grabs his chin, holds it tight. “Not a shock, you're pretty.”

“Am I, aye?” Merlin says, dislodging himself from Arthur’s grip. He's holding up fairly well for sounding so annoyed. “Time fer bed, I think.”

“Come with me.” Arthur says, brazenly grabbing at Merlin’s lapels and trying to get his suit coat open.

Merlin tries to twist away and Arthur lets him go, opting instead to take his own shirt off. He fumbles convincingly with his buttons then throws the shirt onto the floor.

“Come on, Emrys, it'll be fun!”

“Best time ah yer life, mate.” Merlin says confidently, trying to stop Arthur from removing his trousers. Arthur laughs, but the desire inside him is painful now. He scrabbles at Merlin again, but Merlin blocks every advance.

Arthur decides in an instant to pursue his advantage and leans in to kiss Merlin, his lips parted. Merlin puts a hand on Arthur's chest and leans back into him, resting his forehead against Arthur's collarbone. There is a moment of stillness between them and when Merlin speaks his voice is almost accentless, very deep, and as quiet as a prayer.

“Please stop, Arthur. Please don't make me tell you no. Please.”

Arthur instantly feels shittier than he has ever felt in his entire life. There is something real in Merlin’s voice. A plea that wrenches through Arthur, ripping his heart into pieces and making him feel like a complete monster. Continuing with his drunken facade, Arthur laughs as heartily as he is able and then falls onto his bed, lying back into a sprawl. After Merlin helps him off with his shoes, he says goodnight from far away and then Arthur hears the bedroom door closing.

For thinking he had nothing to lose, Arthur suddenly feels as though he's lost an awful lot.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 28 - In which both Merlin and Arthur explore the consequences of Arthur's actions.
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

**Chapter 28**

Merlin kicks about Gaius’s office, loosening his bow tie and throwing it to the floor. Fuck. What the shit had just happened?

Merlin’s skin tingles with the memory of Arthur’s fevered grasps - imprinted like a tattoo across his body.

_“You coming to bed with me, Emrys?”_

Fuck.

Merlin has been in an exhaustive state of constantly turned-on since he'd moved to London in August, and Arthur had _invited him to bed_. Merlin should get a fucking knighthood for walking away. 

Christ. 

Merlin lets loose a string of curses and flings a few stacks of paperwork to the floor, knowing full well that he’s behaving like a toddler and throwing all of his toys out of the pram, but unable to stop himself. It had been so fucking close.

Merlin collapses into his chair, feeling empty, frustrated, and bone tired, but he doesn’t sleep and he doesn't leave the room; he can’t face going back to his bedroom alone. He can’t occupy that massive bed on his own, not tonight - not after turning Arthur down. 

Why had he done that? Why the hell had he done that? Hadn't he made the decision a few days ago with William that he was going to admit his feelings to Arthur and bugger the consequences? So why had he turned him down?

Because there was no joy in winning Arthur when he was drunk enough to sleep with just about anyone. That wasn’t the point. A casual shag with Arthur wasn’t enough. Merlin needed to know if there was any chance whatsoever of Arthur returning his feelings, and a drunken shag wasn’t the way to achieve that goal.

Why did his brain have to be so switched on all the time? Damn.

A crazed laugh escapes Merlin’s lips and he clasps his hand over his mouth. One thing for sure: William was going to actually murder him.

After a while Merlin decides that the only thing he can do is work. After all, the middle of January seems closer now that it's officially the first of the month. Merlin settles in and works off his frustrations by burying himself in coding manuals and risk and issues logs.

By the time the sun comes up Merlin has convinced himself that the universe is having a laugh at his expense. 

It just isn't fucking fair!

Although there is one thing to be happy about, at least: if Arthur was drunk enough to sleep with just about _anyone_ , at least Edwin fucking Muirden was occupied by Gwaine.

*

Arthur can't even look at himself in the mirror. What the hell had he been thinking? He feels sick and disgusted with himself, and he spends the night barely sleeping and cursing himself to the deepest corners of hell for his deplorable behaviour.

He can't even bring himself to be disappointed by the fact that Merlin had turned him down - of course he had - Arthur had been, apparently, extremely drunk, the only decent thing would have been to say no. What had Arthur been thinking? 

He knows exactly what he was thinking - he was thinking that he was so in love with that stupid, beautiful Scottish boy that he could no longer think at all. Shit. 

He hadn’t wanted to come right out and admit his feelings for Merlin in case Merlin and Gwen were properly serious, but, surely, even in Arthur’s strict world of right and wrong, forcing yourself on someone was a trillion times worse than infidelity?

Of course it was. Even if you tried to pass it off as drunken behaviour.

_But that wasn't how it was supposed to go! _ Arthur takes his frustrations out against the wall of his room, possibly bruising the heel of his hand in the process. 

It was supposed to be _“Oi, Emrys, let's shag, eh?”_ followed by _“Yes, please Arthur let's do this thing”_. Then the next morning they would be awkward and apologise to each other and either Merlin would tell Gwen and they'd split up or Merlin would lie and Arthur would go back to loving him in silence.

Or it was supposed to be _ “Naw, thanks, pal, yer not my type.” _ followed by a bit of embarrassment and everyone laughing about it the following week.

It was never meant to be _ “Please don't make me tell you no._” Not the way Merlin had said it, in the way that made Arthur feel like all the air was getting sucked out of the universe. Not like that.

Arthur spends the morning trashing around his room shouting curses at himself until he feels like he's suffered enough, then he shouts some more.

By mid morning he knows that he'll go crazy if he stays in his room for another second so he heads off in search of food and company, staying well away from anywhere Merlin might be.

Thankfully, his closest friends had been allocated accommodation within the Palace following the previous evening’s festivities, so somewhere in the building are at least a few friendly faces. 

He finds Leon and Percy in the private dining quarters, already munching on breakfast and talking quietly. Part of Arthur feels like he should admit the whole thing, but his pride prevents that, and instead he decides to carry on with his inebriation facade.

“Morning...” Arthur mumbles, slouching into the room.

“How are you even up walking?” Leon asks with a laugh as Arthur seats himself at the table. Arthur lifts a bit of toast but puts it down without eating any, honestly not even a little bit hungry, but pretending to be hideously hungover. 

“No idea.” Arthur lies. “What happened? The last thing I remember is asking one of the waiters if we could swap clothes.”

“That was early, Arth.” Leon Laughs. 

“There was much worse after that.” Percy adds.

Arthur hangs his head and hides behind his hands. “Oh, God. How did I even get home?” 

“Merlin.” Leon and Percy say in unison.

Arthur doesn't have to fake the look of horror on his face as the whole evening crashes over him again. The car ride home, Merlin’s fingers at the base of his throat - all that  _ potential _ .

“Don't worry.” Leon says, placatingly, “I mean...I don't think you need to worry. Merlin wouldn't…” Leon looks to Percy then they both look at Arthur.

“No, he wouldn't…” Percy reassures, frowning.

“Wouldn't what?” Arthur asks, genuinely curious. There is no way they know about what happened unless Merlin has already told them and how,  _ why _ , would he?

“He wouldn't have felt he… needed to… stay.” Leon says, haltingly, as though afraid of his own words.

“Yeah.” Percy adds, backing Leon up, “I mean, he wouldn't have felt  _ obliged_.”

“Obliged?” Arthur asks. Leon and Percy exchange another loaded look before returning their eyes to Arthur and the whole conversation makes Arthur feel incredibly stupid. There’s obviously something these two have been discussing that Arthur hasn’t thought of. What do they mean, obliged?

Then the penny drops.  _ Obliged.  _ What if Merlin thought that Arthur thought he was entitled to… As his boss or as The Prince or something? Shit. Why hadn't he ever thought of that?

“Oh no. Oh, no, no, no. I didn't! We didn't! I would  _ never _ !” Arthur’s voice is rough and pained. Leon and Percy both shake their heads at him almost sadly. “I have to find him…”

Arthur rises from the table. What if Merlin thought Arthur expected him to perform sexually for him? No, no, no, no, no. Arthur sits back down, his head in his hands, almost unable to move under the weight of disgust that has settled on him. He gets it now, finally, what Merlin has always meant about Arthur being his boss. Since they met Merlin has been clear about the boundaries and Arthur has had no fucking clue. Merlin must think it is expected of him as part of his job here to never say no to Arthur. Of course that’s what he’s always meant. How could Arthur be so stupid?  

“I don't think you have anything to worry about, Arthur. Merlin wouldn't have stayed.” Percy says, the implications very clear. “Not that he wouldn’t want to.”

“Probably.” Leon adds, very kindly. Were they trying to save Arthur’s pride here? No wonder they were two of his best friends.

“I think he'd have said no if he wanted to, Arthur. He doesn't strike me as the sort of guy who would just  _ let  _ you.” Percy says in what is clearly an attempt to cheer Arthur up.

“Oh, please, stop.” Arthur says, absolutely horrified at the very idea, even though that is something that might just almost have happened. Arthur hates himself. When he speaks next it is almost a question. “You know I would _never_.” 

“No! We know that.” Percy says, adamantly, “But you were  _ very _ drunk last night and very...friendly.”

“I have to find him.” Arthur says, rising from the table again but this time making it halfway to the door of the room.

“He said he’s working today.” Leon says, tucking back into his breakfast. 

“Also, just so you know,” Percy adds, biting into a bit of toast, “The last time any of us saw Edwin he was leaving with Gwaine.”

Normally this news would have meant hell for Arthur, especially since the papers were sure to have gotten the scent and would be having a field day. His father will not be pleased. However, on top of everything else that Arthur has to deal with, this is nothing.

“Brilliant. Just perfect.” Arthur says, shaking his head as he opens the door to leave, Percy and Leon surrendering to their laughter as the door closes again.

*

Merlin is in Gaius’s office when Arthur finds him. He is still wearing the suit he had worn to The Club the previous evening, but he looks rather worse for wear. It is obvious that he has not slept.

It strikes Arthur as cruel and unusual punishment that, even though he’s come here to apologise for being such an asshat, he can’t help himself from wanting to kiss the lines of exhaustion right off Merlin’s face. 

“Happy New Year, Merlin.” Arthur says, as Merlin rises from his chair and turns to Arthur, setting a sheaf of papers about a foot thick onto the desk. Is Arthur imagining the look of annoyance in Merlin’s eyes? He doesn’t think so.

“Same to you. Glad to see you up and about.”

“I believe I owe you an apology for last night.” Arthur interrupts, and before Merlin can reply he just keeps speaking. “No, let me finish, please. I’ve just come from Leon and Percy and if they are to be believed, you helped me home last night. I can remember nothing of the evening beyond my attempt to switch outfits with a waiter, so I’m sorry - truly sorry - if I acted towards you in any way that was unwelcome or uncomfortable for you.” 

In his mind’s eye Arthur can see himself scratching at Merlin’s lapels trying achingly to get to the skin beneath. Arthur desperately wants Merlin to call him out on everything. He wants Merlin to accuse him of being a bastard and he wants it to be out in the open exactly what Arthur is apologising for.

But he doesn’t. Merlin only shrugs as though he’s been carrying a heavy weight and after a few seconds he laughs softly. “Listen, Arthur, it’s fine. Nothing happened. Honestly. I helped you home, forced some water down you and you collapsed onto your bed.”

In the few seconds of silence before Arthur speaks again it seems as though the room rings with the lie.

“Good.” Arthur says, nodding, giving Merlin another chance to call him out. “Good. Well, as long as that’s all…”

“There was a rather questionable strip tease when you took your shirt off…” Merlin says, a smile hitching up the corner of his lips. 

Arthur runs a hand over his forehead as though this is the worst thing he could think of. Shaking his head he says, “Well, thank you for seeing me safely home.”

“I'm only sorry you had to go home with me,” Merlin says, turning back to his stack of papers and lifting the first one up as though to read it. “I’m sure there are many others whose company you would have enjoyed more.”

Arthur only huffs in an admissive sort of way, having no other response without coming straight out and admitting his feelings, which, after the way he behaved the previous night, he’s no longer so keen on admitting.

He’s already almost out the door before he turns back. “I was going to get the guys together for an outing. Pretty subdued. Would you come?” 

Arthur makes the invitation on a whim, wanting only to end their conversation on a more positive note, but Merlin doesn't even take time to think about it. 

“I'd love to. I really would, but I have so much work to do.” He gestures at the surrounding mountains of papers and books. “I've got a new deadline to meet and…”

“Hey, that's fine. I understand. If you change your mind, just…”

“OK. See you around.”

Before Arthur has even left the room Merlin has turned back to his books. Arthur feels empty, all things considered.  Less than a week ago Arthur had been alone in the snug at The Prince and Crown, carefully placing a paper crown over a sleeping Merlin’s hair and wondering what he’d ever done in a previous life to be lucky enough to have even a single moment like that in his experience.

Today everything has turned to shit, and it’s entirely Arthur’s fault. 

*

The hardest part for Merlin had been facing Arthur and pretending the two of them hadn’t almost had very drunken sex. All he can see when he looks at Arthur now are his eyelids halfway shut with desire, his hands reached out towards Merlin.

How can Merlin ever face Arthur again? How on Earth is he supposed to act like nothing had happened when he can still feel the ghost of Arthur’s fingers on his skin.

Merlin curses a few more times as loudly as he dares before flinging on his headphones and getting stuck into his work again.

When Will texts him that evening to ask how his Hogmanay had gone Merlin can’t even bring himself to answer.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 29 - In which Arthur goes around in circles and ends up exactly where he started and Merlin buries himself in his work.
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

** Chapter 29 **

Arthur lets the chill, misty air and the sound of his feet on wet pavement clear his mind. It has been raining for days and the city is sodden with it. Arthur is exhausted in both body and mind, having slept possibly a grand total of ten hours since the beginning of January, but still he runs flat out along the Holborn Viaduct, his security trailing behind.

Ever since Edwin fucking Muirden had humiliated himself, and Arthur in the process, by being caught with Gwaine on New Year’s Eve (in an alley, in flagrante), every newspaper in the country is desperate to get a picture of Arthur’s reaction. Arthur can understand the severity of this PR nightmare, but he’s unwilling to abide by his Father’s regulation to stay within ten feet of the Palace at all times. Uther would likely murder him when he gets back, but just now that doesn't matter so much.

This run is an absolute necessity as far as Arthur is concerned. He's utterly miserable and feeling worse because less than two weeks ago he'd been so content. Content with life in general (for once), and, certainly, with Merlin. If Arthur needed any further proof of his feelings for Merlin, there it would be.

Crossing into a mostly residential area and slowing to allow his security to catch their breath, Arthur tries not to dwell on his overwhelming feelings of regret and embarrassment surrounding his disastrous Hogmanay Plan. It has been difficult to put the incident behind him as he and Merlin haven't spoken since Arthur’s botched apology on January first.

As Arthur returns to the Palace and kicks off his running shoes, grabbing a towel before padding through to his bathroom, he reminds himself that he has sort of seen Merlin lately - in his dreams. The times he's managed to sleep lately he's had very vivid dreams of Merlin, but none of them are really something Arthur should think about while undressing himself for a shower.

*

“What do you mean ‘you’ve no time for me’?” Gwen’s voice sounds hurt from the other end of the phone. Merlin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knew this was going to be a struggle.

“Gwen, listen…” Merlin begins, but Gwen cuts him off.

“No. I finally have something to talk about - something that makes me happy - and you don’t have time?”

“Honestly, I've no…” Merlin tries. Gwen cuts him off again.

“Well, phone me when you do have time, Merlin, and if I were you I'd start with an apology.

Merlin looks at the phone in his hand, the screen going dark now that the call has ended, then looks around him at the mountains of work piled precariously on his desk. Guilt at the way he's treated Gwen (and everyone else) wells inside Merlin and he flings the phone away from himself in disgust, hearing the dull thud of it landing on the seat of an armchair. His behaviour is appalling and he knows it, but there isn't a thing he can do about it. Not when he's faced with the impossible deadline of mid-January for getting his software through testing.

It is a deadline he knows he cannot achieve, but he has to try.

He’s barely left the office in days, sleeping (rarely) and eating (very rarely) at his desk. An ill-advised journey to Oxford had been his only break from work since Hogmanay, but it had been an utter waste of time. He hadn't learned anything new about Dragon Lords. If anything it had just made his understanding of the situation worse and given him something awful to think about in his spare time. On top of that he'd no doubt upset Lance and Gwaine by barely speaking to them while he was in their flat overnight.

At least his work and his Dragon Lord research is keeping his mind off Arthurr.

Almost against his will Merlin's eyes wander to the half-covered stack of tabloids on the floor by his bag, each one of them showing a seemingly  distraught Arthur in the wake of Edwin Muirden’s departure. (Because busy with work he may be, but when the man you're stupidly in love with is on the front page of the papers, you read them.)

Merlin rolls his shoulders to rid himself of thoughts of his fight with Gwen, of Dragon Lords, and of Arthur, and tries to focus on his work. From somewhere across the room his phone beeps his Battery Critically Low warning at him, but Merlin ignores it and focuses instead on a complex line of code.

*

Arthur grudgingly opens the media message from his cousin, expecting yet another picture of Merlin and Gwen (or “Mergwen” as he’s taken to thinking of them), looking blissfully happy. Since her return from Europe Morgana has been trolling Facebook for evidence of everyone's goings on while she was away and has been sending Arthur photographic evidence of everyone they know seemingly having a fucking wonderful time.

It's made Arthur even more miserable than usual and, in protest, he's cloistered in his bed chambers listening to music that makes him think of Merlin and letting himself wallow in angst.

Thankfully this particular picture is the one of Gwaine passed out in the bogs which Arthur (and likely everyone in the universe) has already seen. It doesn't go far to cheering Arthur up, but at least it's not Merlin smiling happily in someone else's arms. The caption from Morgana reads, “ _Funny story: Gwaine practically assaulted Merlin in the toilets. They're still pals though. Lol._ ”

Arthur lets loose an incredibly long sigh. He knows all about this, of course he does. He also knows that since his own almost assault on Merlin, Merlin hasn’t spoken to him at all. Which means there must be something inherently different in his relationship with Merlin and Merlin's relationship with Gwaine.

Add that to the large pile of things Arthur definitely does not want to think about. Because, however much Arthur has tried telling himself that Merlin is simply busy working long hours, the truth is that Merlin is ignoring Arthur completely now. (Busy with work Merlin may be, but when the Crown Prince invites you to play video games you say yes. You don’t just brush him off with lame excuses and then stop returning his calls - that’s just mean.)

Another text alert draws his attention. This time it's a picture of Lance, Merlin and Gwaine all making funny faces at the camera. Arthur does a double take before closing his eyes as tightly as possible then switching his phone to silent and tossing it onto his bed. He can't take any more of these pictures. Not now.

Because the thing is he'd been in that one. He remembers it distinctly as he'd had his arm around Merlin at the time and had had to concentrate very hard on not drowning in the feel of Merlin's hip bones under his fingers. He'd been in that picture. So, what? Merlin is cutting Arthur out of his pictures now?

Arthur turns the volume up on the Pining For Scotland playlist that he's created without really knowing it and lets the post rock hum of There Will Be Fireworks’ “River” wash over him.

Before the end of the song his cousin unceremoniously storms into his room and removes his headphones.

“What?” Arthur barks at her.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Morgana demands, hand on hip. Arthur sits up straight in his chair and pouts at her.

“I'm not.” Arthur answers, but Morgana points at his discarded phone as evidence. “Much.”

“You're acting like a child. What is it that's got you so upset?”

For a second Arthur wants to confide in her, but the smirking laugh she'd most likely issue when Arthur admitted to being in love with Merlin, of all people, puts him off the idea immediately. So Arthur doesn't answer her at all.

“Fine. I'll just guess, shall I?” Morgana says, putting on an air of investigating and clutching an imaginary magnifying glass like a Halloween costume Sherlock Holmes. Arthur rolls his eyes at her. “You're upset because, despite being told for ten years that Gwaine is a useless, shagging, bastard, you wish he'd assaulted you in the bogs instead of Merlin.”

“No.” Arthur says without emotion.

“Hmmm…” Morgana continues, circling Arthur's chair thoughtfully, “I've got it! You're devastated by Edwin Muirden’s sudden departure.”

“Fuck Edwin fucking Muirden.” Arthur growls, disgruntled.

“I have.” Morgana says, raising an eyebrow at Arthur in a very cheeky manner. Arthur stares at her for a good few seconds before they both burst out laughing. Trust Morgana to cheer him up even when he doesn’t want to be cheered.

“Does Morgause know?” Arthur says, only half joking.

 "Yes of course,” Morgana practically purrs, “she was there, too.” Arthur shakes his head at her, still chuckling. He has no doubt that Morgana is telling the absolute truth, but the whole situation is so ridiculous Arthur can't help himself.

“Am I the only person in Buckingham Palace who hasn't shagged Edwin fucking Muirden?"

“Probably.” Morgana says, settling herself down on the edge of Arthur’s bed and picking up his phone to hand it to him. “It’s a good thing, though. You’re so innocent, someone like Edwin would absolutely ruin you.”

“I am not innocent.” Arthur says, blushing fiercely. This is, of course, a lie, and he knows Morgana knows that. The truth is that all of his Father’s lectures about fidelity, monogamy and family pride have thus far kept Arthur from shagging mostly everyone. Although that didn’t mean he was entirely innocent, he had gone to an all boys school, after all.

“Oh, Arthur, don't be embarrassed, I’m only teasing you.” Morgana smiles, rising from the bed and walking towards the door.

“Yes, well, whatever. The point is that I am very certainly not sad that Edwin Muirden has gone. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“That would sound much more convincing without the giant sigh at the end of the sentence, cousin.” Morgana says, looking back halfway out the door. “Whomever it is that's upset you, just go and speak to them. You're both adults, hopefully.” Arthur scoffs at this, and Morgana blows him a kiss. “You know where I am if you need me.”

Arthur doesn't respond. Go and see Merlin. Yeah, great idea. So Arthur can embarrass himself even more deeply than he already has? No. Arthur shakes his head as the door shuts behind Morgana and then he puts his headphones back on and presses play. Twin Atlantic start strumming “Oceans” at top volume. Arthur closes his eyes and pictures the snowy lane to Merlin's house, then he pictures the two of them walking there, hand in hand. In his imagination Merlin would never cut him out of a photograph.

If you could win awards for acting like a lovesick teenager, Arthur would be up for an Oscar.

*

By the seventh day of January Morgana has managed to convince Arthur to go and speak to Merlin, though not in so many words, as Arthur still hasn’t admitted the identity of the person making him so miserable.

He searches for excuses to go see Merlin, and an article in the paper about The Prince and Crown seems to be just what he’s looking for, and he makes it as far as the door to Gaius’s office before turning back to his chambers. He can’t do it! “ _Hi, it’s me, Arthur, you know, the guy who made an enormous tit out of himself? Any chance you saw this article?_ ” Fuck.

When he gets a text from Lance urging him to arrange another afternoon at the pub watching football, Arthur seizes the chance to get the ball rolling. It’s not a terribly personal invitation, right? It’s a boys’ afternoon at the footy. Harmless.

Except when Arthur remembers the curve of Merlin’s lips only a breath away from his during their confused argument at the last football match.

Arthur storms around his room cursing under his breath and throwing clothes from one pile to another for a good half an hour before he finally decides to bite the bullet and go find Merlin.

*

By the seventh of January Merlin has managed to ostracise Gaius out of the office with his combination of frustrated swearing and his generally foul mood. Which means, much to his chagrin, that he is alone when Arthur arrives.

“Good evening, Merlin.” Arthur says, walking casually into Gaius’s office, barefoot and looking painfully perfect. Merlin rockets up out of his chair, brushing biscuit crumbs off his jumper and running a hand through his unkempt hair. He feels like the most disgusting specimen in existence, and tries in vain to make himself look presentable.

“Arthur!” Merlin looks around, checking first, because it’s entirely likely that Gaius is here and Merlin hasn’t noticed, but they are, indeed, alone. “Um, Gaius isn’t here.”

“I know that, he’s with my Father.” Arthur is smiling at Merlin in a way that makes Merlin convinced he’s got a crumb of something or a dab of melted chocolate somewhere, so he surreptitiously runs his hand over his face, just in case. He's surprised at how unshaven he is. When was the last time he showered? The fact that he can't remember sort of terrifies him. “I wanted to see you, actually.”

“Why?” Merlin asks, before he can help himself. His brain treacherously replays Arthur’s halting apology from the first of the month, and even more treacherously replays the activities which had lead to the apology. He can feel his cheeks warming with embarrassment.

“The boys and I are all headed out to watch the football the day after tomorrow, and we wanted to know if you’d like to come along.” Arthur says, very quickly, still smiling at Merlin like there’s fluff or bits of paper sticking out of Merlin’s hair. Merlin nervously pats his hair down, just in case.

“Football?”

“Yes, at The Club. Football, drinks, all very casual. Don’t worry,” Arthur says, inclining his head the barest inch in Merlin’s direction and lowering an eyelid in half a wink, “I promise to behave myself this time.”

Merlin lets loose a maniacal laugh for a single second before cutting it short. Arthur’s eyebrow raises and now he’s looking at Merlin as though Merlin has completely lost his marbles.

“Oh, um…” Merlin closes his eyes and tries to think of one of the hundreds of reasons going out for drinks with Arthur is a terrible idea, but none of them come to mind. All he can think is DRINKS WITH ARTHUR!!!!!! Then the reality of it crashes back down and he manages to reply, sadly, “I would love to, but I have to work.”

Arthur smiles a very interesting, mad looking smile, nods once and turns to leave.

“Arthur, wait! I really do want to go, it's just that I'm at a crucial stage right now.” Merlin casts around for any time he can tell Arthur he's free and he settles on after the middle of the month, when the deadline will be by and any rushing on his behalf will be useless. “I'll be better after the sixteenth. Could we reschedule for then?”

"Sure, sure.” Arthur says, turning to leave. Merlin feels himself shrink. Could that have gone worse? Christ.

Just before he leaves the room, Arthur turns back. “Oh, I saw an article in the paper about The Prince and Crown.”

“In the paper? Why?” Merlin’s stomach drops.

“Apparently Jack and Isa have sold the Inn.” Arthur shrugs. Sold the Inn? What? How does Merlin not know this? He can feel his face arrange itself into a very disbelieving look.

“No, that can't be right. I'd have heard something. Will would have been in touch.”

Arthur shrugs again, turns back to the door. “Well, in my experience the papers are rarely right about anything, so…” Arthur looks over his shoulder at Merlin who’s still standing with a look of confusion on his face. “I guess I’ll see you later?”

If Merlin were paying attention he may have heard the sadness in Arthur’s voice, but as it is, he’s so focused on finding his phone and contacting Will that Arthur’s departure barely registers. His phone battery is dead and after a few minutes of searching Merlin locates the charger and plugs it in.

He needs to talk to Will. Why would Jack & Isa sell the Inn?

*

On the eighth day of January, Arthur goes for a walk with Lance. They take their time circling St James Park Lake, Arthur’s father insistent that Arthur should not wander too far from the Palace during the day. There are the usual paparazzi, but when it’s obvious that Arthur is simply on a walk with a good friend, they scamper off in search of juicer prey. 

“How's the new year treating you?” Arthur asks, breathing out slowly, watching his breath fog in the cold morning air.

“Very well. It's going to be the best year yet.” Lance says with unfailing optimism. Arthur wishes he could return the sentiment, but so far this year sucks balls. On top of the disastrous conversation with Merlin yesterday evening, Arthur’s Father keeps hinting at arranging a reunion with Edwin fucking Muirden.

“You're cheerful.” Arthur says, regarding his friend like he’s lost his mind.

“No reason not to be.” Lance says, and Arthur can hear his smile. Jealously surges through Arthur. Something has obviously occurred in Lance’s life to make him even cheerier than usual, but, as bad a friend as it makes him, Arthur can’t bring himself to ask what.

They pause on the bridge over the lake and both lean their elbows on the fence. It might be cold, and Arthur might be overwhelmingly miserable, but it is a beautiful morning in London which is something Arthur can always appreciate.

“Have you spoken to your father about Edwin?” Lance asks, his voice a whisper, both of them aware now of how damaging it would be to be overheard.

“Yes, but you know as well as I do that he didn't listen. He has some agenda with regards to Edwin Muirden that I don't fully understand. Normally he's quick to move on from his Dragon Lord suitors, but not this time. He's adamant that we should kiss and make up."

Lance laughs heartily then lowers his voice again, looking around them. “So, you're supposed to be pally with Edwin after he very publicly shagged one of your best friends? Nice. Really nice.”

“Wouldn't be the first time he's asked something like this.” Arthur says. Lance chuffs in agreement. They push off from the bridge and continue through the park, Lance seeming to understand that Arthur is more comfortable while moving.

“Seen Merlin lately?” Lance asks. Arthur, feeling immediately on guard, tries to judge Lance's tone but can sense nothing untoward.

“Asked him to join us for the football tomorrow, but he’s working. You?”

“He stayed at the flat with us last week, but I didn't speak to him much. He got in after midnight and left on the first train to London. I think he met with someone in the archives. He's been using Gwaine's ID to get access to the library.”

“At least someone is using it.” Arthur says, jokingly, though he doesn’t feel at all like joking. He goes back again to one of the pictures Morgana had sent him of Gwaine and Merlin together. Why was this still bothering him? He’d all but ruled out the possibility of Merlin and Gwaine shagging, so why is he considering it fact now? But he can’t help himself from wondering how often Merlin has been to Oxford. How often has he spent the night at their flat? How obvious have they been in their affair considering Lance knows that Merlin and Gwen are dating - knows there's a reason Merlin shouldn't be too friendly with Gwaine?

“Although, I don't think the library is the only reason Merlin is coming to Oxford.” Maybe it's the tone of his voice, but Arthur knows Lance isn't only implying a relationship between Merlin and Gwaine. Lance has witnessed something, he must have. Arthur hates, hates, to think that Merlin is a serial adulterer, but the evidence suggests otherwise.

As they walk back towards the Victoria Memorial Arthur considers contacting Will to see what he has to say about Merlin. He and Will had gotten on fairly well in Ealdor, maybe he’d feel sympathetic towards Arthur’s queries. Then again maybe he’d tell Arthur to fuck right off and then let Merlin know that Arthur was asking about it.

Come to think of it, maybe Arthur could just ask Merlin?

The thought of that incredibly awkward conversation is nearly enough to send Arthur into oncoming traffic.

“He's certainly busy with work, though.” Lance says, “He looks like he's hardly sleeping."

“So it seems,” Arthur says, “Any idea what he's doing?”

“It's that software programme he wrote.”

“Software programme?”

“Apparently.” Is all Lance says and Arthur understands that Lance doesn't know enough to elaborate.

Arthur briefly considers bringing up the overheard conversation with the lawyer from Ealdor, but then Lance will want to go into detail of Arthur’s trip to Scotland and Arthur can’t bear to think of it. Besides, Merlin’s private business is Merlin’s private business.

Unless it’s affairs with Gwaine, then, apparently, it’s everyone’s business. Shit.

Their conversation continues until they get back to the Palace and see Edwin fucking Muirden standing in the corridor outside Arthur’s room. Fuck.

Fuck Edwin fucking Muirden and fuck Arthur’s father.

Arthur doesn’t even stop to say hello, he just storms right past a startled, smiling Edwin Muirden and heads to see his father, leaving Lance behind him to make some apology for Arthur’s behaviour.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 30 - In which Arthur discovers one of Merlin's secrets and Merlin accepts an invitation from Arthur without knowing exactly what he's getting in to.
> 
> There are no chapter specific tags.

**Chapter 30**

“Why is he here, father?” Arthur storms into his father's study, not giving a toss who else might be there to overhear. Thankfully it is only George, who excuses himself almost silently.

“Hello to you, too, Arthur. You've been out, I see.”

“Why. Is. He. Here?” Arthur tries to imbue each word with the anger he feels, hoping to elicit some response from his Father that might show that Arthur’s feelings are finally being acknowledged.

“I assume you mean Mr Muirden? I told you I wanted you to get to know him, it seems to me you did a very poor job.” Uther shuffles some papers around on his desk, leaning in to examine a handwritten letter.

“This is a joke, right?” Arthur tries to say over his father who is talking louder the less attention Arthur pays him.

“For example, did you know that Mr Muirden is a wizard?” Uther looks up and pierces Arthur with a very specific look. “As was his father before him.”

Arthur doesn't deign to answer. Instead he gives his father one look of deepest loathing and excuses himself without saying farewell.

He charges down the corridor like an animal let loose, anger coursing through him. He should have known. All the trips his father was taking with Gaius to do “research”. His insistence on creating a fictional relationship between Arthur and Edwin Muirden. It was his father's old obsession again, that Dragon Lord nonsense. Arthur should have fucking known.

*

“What do you mean they sold the Inn?” Merlin asks Will, having finally charged his phone and finding five voicemails and countless texts from his friend. Since his embarrassing conversation with Arthur Merlin has been to his rooms long enough to shower and shave, and now he’s finally phoning Will, who is pleased to hear from him even though Merlin would understand if he weren’t.

“Well, we’ve been run off our feet since Arthur left, and just after Hogmanay someone made them an offer. Apparently having the actual Prince spend his Christmas here has made the location absolutely unbeatable.” Will sounds pleased. Merlin wants to ask him how much the offer was for, but he holds his tongue. If Will wants to tell him, he will.

“Someone made an offer?” Merlin asks, not able to stop the smile that forms.

“An undisclosed buyer. Isa thinks it might be one of those big American tour companies wanting to make Ealdor a stop on their bus tours.”

“Oh, my God!” Merlin laughs heartily at the idea of a horde of American tourists descending on Ealdor. “How do they feel?” Merlin asks, pushing into Gaius’s office, holding his phone between his shoulder and his ear and almost spilling his peace offering to Gaius all over the floor. He’s hoping the cup of tea he’s bought Gaius will make up for his being so terrible the past week or so.

“Are you kidding? They’re ecstatic. Two seconds after they signed the papers they booked flights for Spain. No idea when, or if, they’ll come back.”

“So, what’s the next step, then?” Merlin asks, sitting at his desk. Gaius is not in, so Merlin decides his peace offering must not go to waste and goes ahead and drinks it himself.

“Well, I’m not going to Spain with them, if that’s the question.” Will says, laughter in his voice. It makes Merlin indescribably happy to hear Will sounding so happy.

“You know what I mean, Will.” Merlin says, noticing a letter addressed to him on top of the pile of papers on his desk. Merlin opens the letter while sipping his tea and subsequently splurts tea all over his desk and computers.

“Y’alright?” Will asks, obviously alerted by Merlin choking to death on his end of the phone.

“What the hell is this, Will?” Merlin asks, once he is able to speak again.

“Oh, I take it you got the mail, then?” Will says, nonchalantly. Merlin wants to wring his neck.

“Will, this is a cheque.”

“Aye, I ken. I signed it.”

“Will, this is exactly how much I need for the deposit on my Mother’s house.”

“Aye, I ken, Merlin. I. Signed. The. Cheque.”

“I can't accept this money.”

“Stop yer moaning, it's from Jack and Isa. And they won't have it back, you know. Not after everything you've done for them. Now, if I were you I'd get on the phone to Ali and get some papers drawn up before that bastard McTavish swoops in and buys your Mum’s house.”

Merlin stares at the piece of paper in his hand, thinking of what he can possibly say to Will. What can he possibly do to show Will how grateful he is? He can think of nothing that doesn't involve tongue kissing him until he's blue in the face. Meanwhile Will is still talking. Merlin tunes his brain back into the conversation.

“Anyway, the answer to your earlier question is that the next step is I'm coming to London.”

“Oh, ya beauty!” Merlin shouts down the phone, jumping out of his chair.

“I'm in Glasgow for a day or two,” Will says, over Merlin’s continued excited chatter, “Then I'm headed down on the train. I'll text you details and you can pick me up at the station.”

*

The Dawn Treader is much busier than normal, especially given the fact that Arthur only goes there before they’re technically open. The amount of security guards who have accompanied Arthur across the street to buy coffee is entirely embarrassing. However, Arthur plays it cool as they enter the establishment first and then, once Arthur gets the all-clear, he goes in himself. A few people stare at him and he smiles at them very politely, making sure not to let any of his anger at his father show on his face.

“Good afternoon.” John says, nodding at Arthur deferentially, with a broad smile on his face. “What can I get for you?”

“A latte and a double espresso, please, John.” Arthur says, setting a £10 note on the counter. As John begins to make the drinks Arthur ask him about his family and whether his granddaughter has moved past her Frozen phase yet, and John tells a very amusing story about her singing on the Underground and a group of guitar-wielding teenagers joining her. Arthur laughs, genuinely amused. He hasn’t managed to get to The Dawn Treader since returning to London, and he’s missed it - not just the superior coffee, but the conversation, too. There aren’t many people who talk to Arthur like he is an actual person.

“Here’s your latte.” John says, setting a paper cup on the counter in front of Arthur. Arthur picks it up and studies it - it looks very different from the last cup he’d gotten.

“What’s this?” Arthur asks, indicating the intricate and beautiful design printed on the paper cup of a multi-masted tall ship sailing tempestuous waters under a rising sun. It’s beautiful - complex and varied, hinting at mystery and adventure.

“New logo design.” John says with a smile, turning back to the grinder and pulling Arthur’s double espresso. Arthur studies the cup a little longer, being careful not to spill his drink. The drawing is fantastic and somehow familiar to Arthur though he’s sure he’s never seen it before. “One of our customers provided it for us. In trade for coffee, if you can believe it.”

“It’s incredible.” Arthur says, honestly, “May I know the name of the customer?” Arthur asks, sure that they would not have asked to remain anonymous after providing a product of such quality.  

“It was a young man named Merlin Emrys, Sir.” John says, setting the smaller cup of espresso on the counter.

Arthur stares at him, blinking slowly, sure he’s misheard what John said. Merlin? How can this possibly be? _Merlin?_ Arthur lifts the cup again and looks closely. It really is a fantastic drawing and expertly rendered. _Merlin?_

The next thing Arthur knows he’s standing in his own office looking at the picture Merlin gave him at Christmas which he has had framed and hung behind his desk. Yes, it is the same hand that has drawn this London skyline, he’s sure of it. And the other pictures gifted at Christmas, of course. Arthur scans the drawing until he locates the signature and, once he sees it he wonders how on Earth he could have missed it.

_Merlin?_

*

Merlin spends the rest of the morning on the phone with Alisdair trying to convince him not to accept any offers on his Mother’s house. It’s a precarious situation that, if it goes badly, could cost Alisdair his job at the estate agents, so by the end of the lengthy phone call Merlin still isn’t sure whether he’s secured the house.

Merlin seeks out Gwen to apologise for his inexcusably long absence. He manages to escape the Palace for a long walk with Gwen, whom, after she accepts his fervent apology, spends an hour gushing over how much in love with Lancelot she is and how happy she is to have Merlin in her life because without him, she’s sure, she never would have met Lance, not really.

Merlin, for his part, listens happily, only every now and then imagining the two disastrous conversations he’s had with Arthur so far this year. They thankfully run out of time before Gwen can ask Merlin anything about Arthur, and she scurries off to meet with Morgana and plan the weekend’s wardrobe choices.

It is evening when Merlin returns to the Palace, but he makes a necessary stop at the staff canteen before heading directly to Gaius’s office, where Gaius is, thankfully, seated quietly behind his desk. Merlin approaches Gaius slowly and offers over the cup of tea he’s brought with him.

“I wanted to apologise to you for my behaviour lately. I know it can’t have been easy to be near me while I’ve been so foul.” Merlin says, feeling genuinely remorseful.

Gaius looks up from the book he’s reading and stares at Merlin for a long time before nodding, slowly. “Yes, well, you’ve been preoccupied. Thank you for apologising.”

“You’ll be pleased to know that the software is through the first phase of testing.” Merlin says, expecting Gaius to be pleased with his progress. Gaius, of course, knows nothing about software testing and development, so Merlin’s expectations are wasted as Gaius hardly responds, only turning back to his book.

“Good. I expect, then, that you’ll be rather pleased to know that we have been approached by The University of Glasgow to implement the software as soon as it is completed.”

Merlin stares at Gaius, who is paging through his book as though looking for a phrase he’s read and can’t locate. “You can’t be serious.” Merlin says, finally. “They want to buy my software? How do they even know about the programme?”

“I have contacts. There has long been talk of them opening a Centre for Magical Studies, and the software you have designed is of great interest for them. I believe they’re sending a team down in early March to see the product for themselves and to discuss the agreement. I trust it will be ready to demonstrate at this time?”

“Aye.” Merlin says, with great confidence. The University of Glasgow wants to buy his software? Merlin, who has the cheque from William folded safely in his back pocket, wonders what he’s done right in a past life to have such a string of good luck.

“I expect you’ll be heading to the pub to celebrate?” Gaius asks, closing his book. The corner of his mouth twitches very slightly. Merlin, smiling brightly for the first time since Christmas, nods. “Well, you may take the rest of the day off, then.”

“You do realise it’s nearly 6pm, don’t you?” Merlin says, lightly. Gaius only looks up at him scornfully before returning his attention to the book.

“Thank you for the tea, Merlin. I expect to see you back here tomorrow morning, regardless of any tomfoolery you may get up to this evening.”

The first thing Merlin does is head out for coffee. He shall text Tristan, Issy, and Freya later and ask whether they’d be willing to go for drinks - it’s a work night, after all - but right now he needs caffeine, and a lot of it.

He's practically on his way out the door when he hears his name and turns to see Edwin fucking Muirden jogging down the corridor towards him.

“Didn’t you leave?” Merlin asks, before he can stop himself. Thankfully, by the smile on Edwin’s face, he hadn’t heard Merlin’s question.

“Hey. You haven't seen Arthur, have you? We're meant to be meeting, but I can't seem to find him.”

“Sorry, no.” Merlin says then tries to leave. Edwin blocks him by putting his arm across the door.

“You know, Merlin, come to think of it, I'm sure Arthur won't mind if I'm a _little_ late, and I'm sure you and I could think of something to occupy our time.”

Merlin just looks at him; Edwin Muirden, whose face has stared out at him from television and movie screens for years, who isn't in any way unattractive. Merlin looks at him and he's never been less attracted to anyone in his entire life.

“Really, really no thank you.” Merlin says, not kindly.

“Are you sure?” Edwin asks, pressing himself against Merlin. _Great,_ Merlin thinks, _now I'll have to take another shower!_ “It would be pretty good…”

Merlin leans into Edwin and whispers into his ear. “There's not enough antibiotics in the world, mate.” Then he turns and heads down the corridor towards another exit door.

*

“John! Good to see you!” Merlin says, happily forcing his way to the counter through the most people he’s ever seen in The Dawn Treader. John looks as though he might cry, but his smile appears when he sees that it’s Merlin.

“Good evening Mr Emrys! The usual?” John asks, then turns to one of his staff members and relays the order. Merlin tries to get out his wallet but John waves him away. “In exchange for coffee, remember?”

Merlin nods at him, smiling, then puts a fiver in the tip jar when John turns to serve the next customer.

“Oh, Merlin, your friend was in here earlier today. Quite interested to learn that you’re our unofficial graphic designer.” John says, and he winks at Merlin conspiratorially. Merlin almost drops his freshly made coffee on the floor. John can only mean Arthur.

So, his secret is out. Arthur knows about his art. Which means he must have figured out why Merlin would spend so much time and energy on his Christmas present. Which means he undoubtedly is wondering about the nature of Merlin’s feelings.

Fuck.

Merlin all but runs to the Palace.

*

Trying to escape his father, Edwin fucking Muirden, and every single other person on the planet who is allowed to call him by his first name, Arthur has locked himself away in his chambers. He alternates between pacing his rooms in anxious disbelief and sinking deep into one of his comfortable chairs in despair. One second he’s talked himself into absolutely confessing his feelings to Merlin immediately, and the next he’s weighed down by the absolute certainty that confessing his feelings is the worst possible idea, ever.  

Occasionally he rings George to bring him tea or coffee or whiskey on the rocks.

It’s just - it’s too fucking perfect. If you could have picked one thing in the entire universe which would make Merlin more attractive to Arthur, it would have been giving him artistic ability. It’s almost as though Arthur is on the end of some big, cosmic joke - here’s every single thing you’ve ever wanted in the world, all wrapped up in one stupidly gorgeous package - but, you can’t fucking have him.

Arthur sinks into his armchair again, feeling his mood darken as night falls outside his windows.

*

Merlin stops outside Arthur’s door and has almost knocked before he comes to his senses. He’s in no fit state to speak to Arthur. He’s shaking with the adrenaline and caffeine running through his system, and he can feel his magic coursing through his veins like molten lava. He must calm down. And on top of that he reeks of Edwin fucking Muirden's expensive and disgusting cologne.

He returns to his rooms and takes a long shower, only occasionally talking to himself out loud. How could he have let this happen? He had given John the design for the new logo months ago, and he had always meant to mention it to Arthur before Arthur found out like this, but it had never happened. There had always been something else to say, (or, rather, a whole lot of nothing at all to say), which had seemed more important.

Now Arthur must think Merlin is keeping secrets from him.

Which he is, just not really on purpose.

Now he will need to find a nice, apologetic way to mention it to Arthur. _Oh, I didn’t really think you’d be interested. Oh, um, it’s nothing, really. The London skyline? That only took me a few hours, not weeks and weeks and weeks._

Shit.

Merlin shakes his head at himself in the mirror as he dries his hair with his towel. He always seems to be digging himself out of a hole where Arthur is concerned.

*

“Arthur!” Merlin says, his smile looking very fake indeed. Arthur doesn’t wait for an invitation, but walks into the sitting room. Merlin shuts the door behind him and they both stand, waiting for someone to speak. Arthur’s eyes fall on a hastily discarded Dawn Treader cup on the coffee table, and he can feel Merlin’s eyes on him like a magnet. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Merlin walks back towards an open bedroom door and Arthur follows him without permission. As Merlin seeks out and puts on his trainers, Arthur takes a look around. The room is sparse but bright, and the dominating feature is an absolutely massive map of London which is tacked to the wall. It is crisscrossed with a spiderweb of lines and circles in different colours. Without even thinking Arthur walks up to it and begins to study, his pulse racing.

There are places on this map, secret places where Arthur can get lost even during the daytime, that Arthur has long dreamt of taking Merlin and there are circles around them, as though Merlin has marked them as points of interest.

“What do the red circles mean?” Arthur asks, thinking of one in particular.

“The places I’d like to go.” Merlin answers.

“And the black ones?”

“Places I’ve been.”

Arthur nods. “You've been very methodical in your explorations.”

Merlin shrugs, but looks pleased at the compliment. “I pay attention is all.”

The solid black lines spread out from the Palace in almost concentric patterns, stretching ever outwards towards the edges of Arthur’s city. Arthur’s heart constricts painfully - he himself had had a map like this many years ago. He wishes now that he’d kept it so he could compare it with Merlin’s.

Arthur turns and faces the rest of the room. On a bedside table is a framed, hand-drawn portrait of a woman who must be Merlin’s mother. They have the same mouth and the same ageless eyes. Arthur walks to the portrait and picks it up, studying it carefully.

“I gather you’ve spoken to John.” Merlin says as though apologising for something terrible. Arthur nods, watching Merlin’s reaction, but Merlin looks down at his feet with a sigh and says nothing. Arthur replaces the portrait as carefully as he can, wanting Merlin to notice the reverence.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur asks, unable to stop the hurt that creeps into his voice.

“I don’t really talk about it.” Merlin replies, shrugging but still not looking at Arthur.

“You’re extremely talented.” Arthur says, truthfully.

“Thanks.” Merlin mutters. There is a silence in the room, and Arthur continues watching Merlin, imagining a million different scenarios which would lessen the space between them in an instant, but none of them seem appropriate in the moment. “I saw Edwin Muirden.” Merlin says in an obvious bid to change the subject, “He was looking for you.”

“Was he now?” Arthur asks, then, in an uncharacteristic burst of honesty, Arthur admits, “Everyone is probably out there laughing about how my Father is trying to marry me off to that filthy bastard.”

Unexpectedly, Merlin laughs. It’s brief, like smoke on a windy morning, but Arthur lets it curl into him.

“Sorry. I just meant…” But Merlin doesn’t say what he meant, and the silence between them returns to being awkward. “For what it’s worth, I agree with you - he _is_ a filthy bastard.”

Arthur can’t help the laugh that escapes him then, and before long the two of them are chuckling amicably, Merlin looking more relaxed and Arthur feeling less and less awkward.

“The skyline…” Arthur says, letting the sentence hang. Merlin tenses again and Arthur wishes he could stop Merlin from flinching at his words. “It’s incredible, Merlin. Really. Very good.” Merlin turns his face away, looking down at the floor again, and Arthur catches the flush on his cheeks - embarrassment. “I wonder if you’d like to come somewhere with me, Merlin?” The invitation is out of Arthur’s mouth before he can stop it. “I know you’re very busy, but I really need to get away from here.” Arthur continues, desperate for Merlin to not say no.

“Where?” Merlin asks, tilting his head and regarding Arthur as though he’s a rare specimen in a zoo exhibit.

“I can't say.” Arthur admits, wanting to keep it a surprise for as long as possible. It’s circled in red on Merlin’s map, which means he mustn’t have been there yet.

“You're asking me to trust you?” Merlin says, and both of them hear the echo of Arthur saying those exact words many weeks ago.

“Aye.” Arthur says, smiling. Merlin considers him, a smile on his own face, and then nods. As Arthur walks towards the door Merlin withdraws his mobile from his leather bag, pockets it and follows Arthur out of the room.

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 31 - In which Arthur discovers another one of Merlin's secrets and Merlin slightly oversteps some boundaries.
> 
> Chapter specific tags: minor violence, minor injuries

**Chapter 31**

"Your Highness."   
  
"Good evening Charlie. How are you? How's the family?" Arthur says, shaking Charlie's hand as he and Merlin enter the museum. Merlin has an astonished, fish-out-of-water look on his face; it's quite clear that of all the places in the entire world that Merlin thought Arthur might take him, a darkened and closed art museum may have been last on the list. Arthur’s mood has improved a hundredfold since leaving the Palace, and, he has to admit, he’s actually, truly enjoying himself. 

Charlie gives Merlin a brief, nervous glance then looks back at Arthur questioningly. Arthur has never brought a guest before.   
  
"Charlie, this is Merlin Emrys. He grew up in the middle of nowhere and has never been to a museum, if you can believe it." The nervous look on Charlie’s face deepens, so Arthur winks at him, trying to be reassuring.

“Merlin, this is Charlie. He's head of night security here at the National Gallery, and he sometimes lets me in after hours, but only if I promise not to break things.”

Merlin and Charlie shake hands very briefly, then Arthur throws an arm around Merlin’s shoulder to corral Merlin in the right direction.

“Don't worry, Charlie,” Arthur says over his shoulder as he leads Merlin into the museum, “I won't let him steal anything."

*

For the first time in his life Merlin is properly speechless. He'd been hoping to get to the National Gallery ever since he arrived in London, but the closest he'd gotten was the Lions outside before a text from Gaius had arrived calling him back to the Palace.    
  
The gallery is stunning. Merlin walks around with his eyes wide open, afraid to blink in case he misses anything. Arthur, it turns out, is a very good tour guide. He leads Merlin from painting to painting for almost an hour, giving brief histories and anecdotes on either the genre, the artist, or the subject matter. Merlin wonders how many times Arthur has been here before and feels jealous of Arthur for the very first time.   
  
The emptiness of the gallery adds something to the experience. Merlin can stand in silence before any painting he likes for as long as he likes. At least until Arthur grows bored and comes to chivvy him along to the next room.   


Merlin catches Arthur watching him a few times, seemingly pleased with Merlin's wide-eyed wonder. Neither of them mention Merlin’s pathetic attempts to be an artist himself, and Merlin is grateful to Arthur for not teasing him for his own drawings. He’s glad, on the whole, that Arthur knows about the drawing now, but he can’t imagine actually talking to Arthur about it. He’d known drawing the new logo for The Dawn Treader might lead to Arthur finding out about the art, but he’d been so excited John had liked the design that he hadn’t thought much about it.

For a long time he and Arthur stand together before a Vermeer (ON LOAN), and Merlin watches Arthur staring at the painting with as rapt an expression as Merlin has on his own face. Merlin is struck, as he often is, at how startlingly beautiful Arthur is. Even here, surrounded by shadows, Arthur seems to create his own light. Again Merlin is overtaken by a sense  of unworthiness and the feeling of it is painful. He remembers his previous desire to admit his feelings to Arthur and, standing there in the darkened museum, he almost has the courage. Almost.

“Arthur.” Merlin says, quietly, his voice still loud in the empty room. Arthur looks over at him and blinks slowly, refocusing. “This is the most amazing thing that I've ever done in my entire life.”  
  
They both look down at where the fingers of Merlin’s right hand are touching the bare skin of Arthur’s left wrist and a long moment passes between them, but then Arthur smiles broadly and looks into Merlin’s face.  
  
“You're welcome.” Arthur says, his eyes alight.  
  
Merlin, who has known for a long time that he's absolutely and totally in love with Arthur Pendragon, falls in love again in that instant, and he falls hard.

*

As they walk through the Gallery Arthur watches Merlin very intently. He watches the way Merlin goes up on tiptoe when he sees a painting that he likes. He watches the way Merlin’s shoulders hunch when he leans in to concentrate on a descriptive plaque. He watches the way Merlin's eyes dance from painting to painting, a half smile on his face like he's won the goddamn lottery.

Arthur watches Merlin and he can't help but remember the feel of him, on the night of the car accident, pressed against his body, all angles and sharpness. He can't help but remember, however shameful, Merlin's forehead resting against his bare chest, his breath hot on Arthur's skin, his hands gripping Arthur's arms. He can’t help but brush his own fingers over the spot on his wrist where Merlin’s fingers had rested only minutes ago. He wants to tattoo the spot with Merlin’s fingerprints so there is a permanent reminder of this night. 

Arthur forces himself to concentrate on the painting ahead of him, if only to stop his mind from imagining Merlin's hands on other parts of his body.

When Arthur has sufficiently calmed down he turns around to see that Merlin has wandered off. Again.

"Merlin? Where are you?" There's no answer. Arthur turns left, the direction they were heading, and finds Merlin in the next room, standing in front of a small painting, a strange, closed look on his face.

Merlin’s shoulders are bunched together as he leans in for a closer look, being very careful not to get too close. The angle at which he's leaning makes his t-shirt ride up a little at the back and Arthur can see a thin strip of pale skin. Arthur wants to touch that skin, to see if it's as soft as it looks. He wants to run his tongue over that skin. He wants to back Merlin up against the walls of the Gallery and lift that shirt up higher by inches, pressing against Merlin as the alarms sound.

Arthur shakes his head. No. That isn't why he'd invited Merlin here tonight. If he wanted to fantasise about fucking Merlin, in public places or not, he could have done that at home or anywhere. Arthur had brought Merlin here because he thought Merlin would like to see the paintings, and Arthur just wants to see him happy. One of them, at least, deserves to be happy.

Merlin leans ever so slightly closer to the painting and, unconsciously, it seems, he begins to chew on his thumbnail. The gesture completely unravels Arthur.

To distract himself, Arthur walks behind Merlin to see which painting he is looking at. It is a landscape in harsh browns and greens, mountains stark against a hopeful gray sky. There is water in the valley of the mountains, calm and severe looking. Cattle and sheep are nestled in dells and hollows in the foreground. It is a beautiful painting. Arthur glances over at Merlin to see him blinking hard.

"Sidney Richard Percy – Cattle And Sheep In A Scottish Highland Landscape, 1851." Arthur says quietly. Merlin startles as though he didn't notice Arthur standing there. His eyes are so very blue.

"It looks like home." Merlin says, looking back at the painting, his voice unusually quiet. Arthur wants more than anything to reach out and hold Merlin, to run his hands over that pale, pained face. To kiss away the sadness behind those eyes, even though he knows he can't.

"You really miss it, don't you?" Arthur asks, keeping his voice low. Merlin looks over at him, the dim light in the room casting his beautiful face into dramatic shadows, and nods.

“They sold the Inn. Isa and Jack. It looks like they're retiring to Spain.” Arthur already knows this, of course, but he lets Merlin talk. “Will is coming to London, which is my fault because I've been trying to get him to move here for months now.” This is something Arthur does not know, but now is not the time. Merlin’s voice has gotten even lower. “There's nothing for me in Ealdor now, even if I do somehow manage to buy my mother’s house.”

There is an incredible sadness in Merlin's voice that Arthur wishes weren't there. Arthur can think of nothing to do, nothing to say, to make that sadness go away.

“You are going to buy it, though, right?” Arthur asks, unable to picture any other living soul inhabiting that tiny piece of Scottish perfection. He's startled at how strongly he feels towards Ealdor, but the village is Merlin and Merlin is the village - Arthur can't imagine it any other way.

“I probably will, but I don't know if I'll ever go back.”

“But who will look after the house?”

Merlin shrugs, deflating visibly. “I could hire someone, I suppose. Or rent it out. As long as that bastard McTavish doesn't get it, it doesn't really matter.”

They stand a long while in that room, in front of the painting of Scotland, looking into each other's eyes. Arthur is surprised again at the agelessness he sees there, and at the incredible fragility. He remembers his previous desire to admit his feelings to Merlin and, standing here in the darkened museum, he almost has the courage. Almost.   


"Come on," he says, finally, slinging an arm around Merlin's shoulder and leading him along, "You'll really like the next room."

*

If Arthur's arm hadn't been around Merlin at the time, there was a good chance he wouldn't have been able to save him.

As it is, the instant the gunfire starts, Merlin expands protection outwards to surround Arthur without even thinking - it inflates like an invisible balloon, surrounding Arthur and clinging to his skin. It is elemental magic, and it comes as second nature. Merlin pushes Arthur away from him, onto the ground behind a bench, but keeps him protected with his magic.

It is obvious that, this time, Arthur is consciously aware of Merlin's magic. As the world slows around them, they lock eyes for a millisecond and Arthur's are very wide.

Thinking only of stopping the attack before any damage can be done, Merlin shouts at Arthur to stay put and then turns away to face the attackers. 

There are two of them - men from their build and height - dressed in combat black and wielding incredibly large guns. They look like professionals by the way they're carrying themselves coming around the corner.    


Merlin holds his hand out towards them and just thinks,  _ stop _ . They crumple to the floor in an instant, like puppets whose strings have been cut, and their weapons clatter out of their hands and across the floor. 

Merlin is seconds from losing control. He can feel the surge of magical power just beneath the surface pushing hard against his restraint. The strength of the fury and vindictiveness Merlin feels flowing through him is utterly terrifying.

He stops himself from killing the attackers, but only just, and it is not an easy thing. The only thing stopping him is the look of terror on Arthur's face, and the idea that there might be more attackers who require Merlin’s attention instead.

Using his magic he pushes his awareness out away from himself and through the entire Gallery. He senses no other attackers. Arthur's security contingent are running flat-out towards the sound of gunfire. The museum security are in a complete panic.

In the staff changing room there is one man sitting alone; the only one who is not surprised by the echo of gunfire. The one whose mind is filled not with panic but with shame and greed and bank transfers.

Merlin lets his magic relax back into himself. Around them time speeds up. The attackers are incapacitated, both lying still on the floor. Arthur's security are less than a minute away, Merlin can hear them shouting. 

Once Merlin has satisfied himself that Arthur is no longer in any immediate danger, he turns back to look at him. Arthur is crouched on the floor where Merlin had pushed him, staring at Merlin with a look of complete horror on his face. His eyes are wide in shock and his face is drained of all colour.

The magic, of course. Merlin should have expected.

He'd never meant to reveal his magic out of necessity. Not like this. He'd meant to explain it gradually, to start small. To make a joke out of it first, somehow. Merlin should have known that Arthur would react this way. His grandfather used to execute magic users, it takes more than one generation for that kind of hatred and fear to dissipate.

He hears himself apologising, hears how weak his voice has become. He can feel the protective bubble around Arthur weakening, can feel himself beginning to shake. Though it has been only seconds, with nothing to draw from the energy Merlin has expanded to save Arthur and to stop the attack has sapped him utterly. There is blackness at the edges of his vision, but he finds the strength to say one last very important thing: “Charlie.”

And then he collapses onto the gallery floor, feeling himself slide into unconsciousness.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 32 - In which Arthur waits.
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

**Chapter 32**

“Jesus Christ, Arthur would you listen to me, please?” Morgana is in a state of hysterics which Arthur completely understands because he feels the same way, though for different reasons.

Morgana had arrived at the hospital seconds after Arthur had, no doubt summoned here by Gaius, whom Arthur had called from the ambulance. Gaius had gone off in a hurry with a bunch of people dressed in scrubs and Morgana had immediately started shouting at Arthur. That was almost twenty minutes ago, and she is showing no signs of slowing down.

“Arthur they tried to kill you. They _nearly killed_ you!” Morgana isn't crying yet, but her eyes are filled with tears. She is pacing back and forth along the row of chairs in the waiting room where Arthur is sitting. They are surrounded by members of the Royal Protection Command and countless police officers, all of whom are trying to pretend they can't hear Morgana's shouting.

“I know that Morgana, I was there.” Arthur can feel the ghost of tremors in his arms and legs, the remainders of the panic and the adrenaline that has been driving his actions since Merlin collapsed at the Gallery. He feels like he's run multiple marathons back-to-back. His hands twitch in his lap, the edges of his fingernails stained with Merlin’s blood.

Morgana sits down for a millisecond in the chair beside Arthur and then rockets up again to resume pacing. “If Uther were here...” She says, as though she's finally won the argument. Arthur cuts her off.

“He's not.”

“I'm just saying that if he weren’t already at the safe house...”

“Morgana, stop.” Arthur says. His voice is quiet but it is imbued with an element of authority that even Morgana cannot ignore. She folds herself into the chair beside him. “I'm not leaving.”

“Arthur, please, I'm _begging_ you. Take the car to the safe house.” The tears in Morgana's eyes finally spill over. Arthur puts his arm around her. “I don't understand why you won't go.”

Arthur pulls back from Morgana to look her directly in the eyes. “Morgana, he saved my life. I'm staying here until I know he's okay.”

Morgana seems to finally decide that there's no use arguing any longer. She instead turns to the nearest police officer and barks orders at him to go find coffee and to do it fast, then she rests her head on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur snakes his arm around her and squeezes her to him.

He can understand where she's coming from, of course he can. There has been an apparent attempt on his life, obviously he should be in a safe house right now, just like his father. That's what safe houses are for. But he won't leave Merlin, not until he is sure Merlin isn't going to…

He can't even think it.

Arthur closes his eyes and sinks into himself. The actual fact of the assassination attempt is far less surprising to him than Merlin's actions. He's a wizard. Merlin. A wizard. Judging by the way Gaius had gone off with the doctors in such a hurry, Gaius, at least, is aware that Merlin is a wizard. Arthur wonders whether his father knows, and dreads the idea that he does. He can’t bear the thought of his father getting his claws into Merlin with his Dragon Lord nonsense.

Merlin. A wizard. Merlin, with his ageless blue eyes and his kindness and his wit and his sense of humour and his talent. Merlin with his messy hair and his cheekbones and his lithe, too-thin body. Merlin, with whom Arthur is completely and utterly obsessed and in love. Merlin. A wizard.

If you had asked Arthur earlier in the day to name the person in his life least likely to be a wizard, Arthur would have said Merlin. He's so fragile-looking and unassuming. Arthur is used to Nimueh and her unapologetic magic, her dominance and her authority. Merlin is nothing like her, and, as far as he has seen, his magic is nothing like hers either. When the shots had been fired, and Merlin had looked at Arthur with his eyes glowing the most beautiful golden colour, Arthur had been completely shocked. And terrified, yes, terrified of Merlin. There was a feeling of such tremendous raw power surrounding Merlin in those seconds that it was wholly frightening, but the magic Merlin performed hadn’t been frightening, it had been subtle and graceful…

The event lasted only a few seconds and then Merlin was lying unconscious and bleeding on the floor. Arthur had gone to him immediately, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood that was pouring out of the gaping gunshot wound in his shoulder.

Arthur never asked Merlin to do that. He never asked Merlin to put his own life on the line for Arthur, and he wishes, how violently he wishes, it had been the other way around. It was like a scene straight out of a nightmare - watching someone he loves die in his arms, because of him.

Thinking back, of course, Arthur can see how ignorant he’s been. He can remember, now, the golden glow of Merlin’s eyes at the scene of the car accident when Merlin had _slowed down time_ to save Arthur's life. Then there was Ealdor. The only place in the UK to have snow at Christmas. At the time Arthur had just thought it was providence, but he can sense Merlin's hand in it now. Especially when he remembers how drastically the weather worsened outside his mother’s house when Merlin lost control of his emotions.

He makes a note to ask Gaius about the magic and it’s effect on Merlin in the long run. If saving Arthur's life had sapped his energy so profoundly, what did it take for Merlin to make it snow for days?

Arthur looks at his hands, one of them still draped reassuringly around Morgana’s shoulder, even though he's washed them Merlin's blood has worked its way under his nails and he can't seem to get it shifted. The metaphor of having blood on his hands is not lost on him. Because, of course, this is the second time Merlin has saved Arthur's life. The second time he's used his magic to save Arthur.

Arthur just hopes he gets the chance to thank him.

A commotion outside the closed hospital ward doors makes Arthur look up. Someone is arguing with the guards outside, demanding to be let in. Morgana and Arthur look at each other, startled, and then Arthur recognises the voice and he closes his eyes in embarrassment and defeat.

“Gwen.” Morgana says, standing and rushing to the doors.

Gwen. Arthur hadn't called her. He hadn't even thought to call her. Of course, as Merlin's girlfriend, she would have been notified somehow. He can't pretend that he is happy to see her.

“Let her in.” Morgana says.

“Lady Morgana!” Gwen exclaims as she enters the room. Arthur has to admire her for her etiquette at a time like this. Gwen even pauses long enough to bow her head in Arthur's direction. “Where is he? Is he OK? What happened?”

“Come sit.” Morgana says, leading Gwen towards Arthur, who sits up straighter in his chair. Gwen's face is streaked with tears, her curls scraped back away from her face. Arthur hates the fact that she's so beautiful.

“There was an attempt on Arthur's life this evening and Merlin got caught in the crossfire.”

“What?” Gwen hiccups, “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Arthur says, rubbing his forehead with a shaking hand, “That someone tried to shoot me and Merlin saved my life.” Arthur doesn't want to say the next part, but knows he has to, “So they shot him instead.”

“He's been shot?” Gwen's voice has gone very quiet. “Is he going to die?” Arthur can feel cold dread seeping into his body again.

“We don't know, Gwen.” Morgana says, attempting a calming tone of voice. “He's in the operating theatre at the moment. Gaius is talking with the doctors.”

“What do you mean you don't know if he's going to die?” Gwen says, even quieter than before.

“They shot him, Gwen.” Arthur says, perhaps a tad unkindly, “They really, really shot him.”

After that no one speaks for a very long time.

*

Gwaine, Leon, Percy and Lancelot arrive at close to four in the morning. After hushed hellos and hugs, Arthur recounts a brief summary of events. No one asks why Arthur isn’t secreted away in a safe house, and Arthur is grateful for his friends for that.

"What's the fallout?" Morgana asks.

"Quiet so far, but that won't last long." Leon says. “They don’t know much, yet, which is a miracle. They don’t know Arthur is here, either. We came in very, very under the radar.”

Arthur could really not care less about the media right now. He knows the attempt on his life will be front page news somewhere, but he has been on the front page many times before and will be again many times in future.

"How is he?" Gwaine asks, his voice low. He directs the question to Morgana, but his eyes are on Arthur. Arthur returns his gaze, his eyes narrowing.

"Still in theatre." Supplies Morgana, "but Gaius is giving us updates and he says the outlook is positive."

Arthur goes back to the chair he was sitting in. Morgana follows him and the rest stay standing, chatting. Lance and Gwen are dispatched for coffees. Arthur watches them go wishing Gwen would just stay gone. Having her here serves as a constant reminder that Arthur is only superficially invested in the outcome, whereas she, as his girlfriend, has the real claim to grief.

It is a few long minutes before they return, and Arthur accepts his lukewarm sludge from Lance. It is barely drinkable, but it is caffeinated, which is all Arthur needs right now. He watches the rest of them congregate again, speaking together with hushed voices.

Arthur couldn’t bear to stand there, guessing. Merlin might be dying somewhere in this hospital, and standing there talking about _how_ or _why_ or _if_ seems pointless. For the millionth time Arthur swallows back tears. Morgana rests her head on his shoulder again, the gesture is very comforting.

"Can you tell me something, Arth?" Morgana asks very quietly, lifting her head to look at him. "Why are you so...?" She makes a gesture that encompasses all of Arthur.

In that moment Arthur wants to tell her everything. He wants to say, " _I'm in love with Merlin and he might die because of me."_  But he can't. Because saying it out loud will make it real and Arthur can't stand it. Because Merlin might die and Arthur would never have told him how he feels.

Morgana looks at him for a very long time before whispering, "Oh. Oh, Arthur, why didn't you tell me?" Arthur tries to deny it but Morgana knows. Of course she knows. Somehow, Morgana always knows. "You're in love with him, aren't you?" Morgana asks, lowering her voice even further. Arthur can't speak, but the tears welling in his eyes answer for him. "How long has this been going on?"

"It isn't.” Arthur says, wiping tears off his cheeks violently. “I mean, he doesn't..." Arthur can barely bring himself to say the name, "Merlin. He doesn't know."

"What?” Morgana looks genuinely shocked. “That's not possible, Arth. If I can tell, surely he can?"

"He's involved with someone." Arthur admits. Morgana knows what this means to him, of all people. They have argued the pros and cons of monogamy until neither of them knew which side they were on anymore. Morgana knows infidelity is a deal breaker, knows Arthur would never consent to be The Other Man.

"Involved? With whom?”

Arthur can't even say her name. Instead he nods towards the group of his friends all talking quietly by the doors.

"Gwaine?" Morgana asks, obviously picking the most likely candidate.

"Gwen." He breathes.

"Gwen?" Morgana asks, then she shakes her head, putting a hand on Arthur's forearm. "Oh, Arthur, no. He's not going out with Gwen."

Arthur's head snaps up, his heart beating at an alarming pace. “What? What do you know?"

"Gwen is involved with Lancelot, Arthur. For months now. They're practically engaged."

"Lance?" Arthur asks, feeling his whole body inflate with hope, "But I thought..." Arthur lets this information sink in. Merlin isn't with Gwen. Merlin isn't with Gwen.

All this time he'd been holding back, unwilling to be the other man, unwilling to come between anyone, and it had been for nothing.

Merlin isn't with Gwen.

Arthur feels more hopeful than he has in months. There is nothing standing in his way now.

Provided, that is, the idiot doesn't die on him.

Without even pausing to think about what his actions might look like to his cousin or to his friends or to anyone else in the entire goddamned universe, Arthur rises from his chair and heads straight over to where Gwaine is talking quietly with Percy and Leon.

“Tell me, now, Gwaine. Tell me there’s nothing going on between you two.” Arthur says, his voice sounding different than usual. Gwaine’s eyes widen and he looks at Arthur for a few seconds like he doesn’t know him at all, then his face softens and he reaches out and touches Arthur’s arm, placatingly.

“No, there isn’t. There never was.” There's a knowing smile on Gwaine’s beautiful face and, for the first time since they were teenagers, Arthur wants to kiss him. “Why would I, when I know you have feelings for him?” Gwaine asks, as though afraid of the answer.

“How did you know?” Arthur asks, ignoring the disbelieving noises coming from mostly everyone in the circle.

“I know _you_ , Arthur.” Gwaine says, squeezing Arthur’s arm. “The playlist. The trip to Scotland. I just knew.”

“ _What_ did you know?” Leon asks, sounding hurt that he has no idea what’s going on.

“Arthur fancies Merlin.” Percy supplies, as though this a fact that everyone in the universe already understands. A sound of disbelief makes the rounds again, and everyone is looking at Arthur.

“How did _you_ know?” Gwaine asks Percy. Leon looks a little hurt, like he's feeling left out not knowing this big secret.

Arthur tunes everyone out while they discuss the how's and why’s and when’s of Arthur’s newly discovered feelings for Merlin, and instead he watches Guinevere and Lancelot. Gwen is watching the proceedings with a curious look on her face, though she mainly still looks worried. She and Lance are leaning a little into each other, supporting each other subconsciously. How could Arthur be so blind? Of course Lance and Gwen are dating. Lance’s positivity and optimistic outlook on life in general has been a permanent feature of his personality since day one, but hasn’t he been even more _himself_ lately? Even more sunny? Of course it's Gwen. Arthur feels guilty watching her, she really is stunningly beautiful, how could he ever have hated the sight of her? He wants to hug her. He wants to wrap his arms around her and squeeze her until he forgets all the negative things he’s ever thought about her. She’s with Lance, now, which means that one day, (soon, probably, knowing Lance), she’ll be his best friend’s wife. The prospect makes Arthur very happy indeed.

“You know, Arthur,” Morgana says, leaning her head against him again, “It seems to me all of this could have been sorted out with one simple conversation.”

Arthur laughs, briefly, before the idea crosses his mind that he might never get a chance to discuss this with Merlin at all if Merlin dies tonight, and his laugh turns into a sob. As Arthur feels the beginnings of his complete emotional collapse creeping in his friends surround him in a hug. He does not break down, but he shudders a few times. No one judges him or questions him, they just support him, and he is very grateful.

“Listen, Arthur, Merlin is not going to die.” Gwaine says, as they all step apart again. “He's too good looking to die. Trust me,” Gwaine gestures at his own stupidly handsome face, “I know.”

*

Arthur has refused point blank to leave until he knew Merlin was going to live. Everyone, even Gaius, had left just after dawn. Arthur had promised to join them at the safe house after he saw Merlin with his own eyes. Uther called and tried to argue but Arthur had not backed down. His father threatened to return to London, and if Uther arrived in the city, Arthur knew his lockdown would be complete. This was his only chance.

The police had left after they had asked Arthur all the questions they could think of. Gaius had quietly and discretely asked Arthur not to tell anyone about Merlin's powers (too complicated), but Arthur had never even considered it.

Alone now in the waiting room, watching the brilliantly blue skies outside the window, Arthur answers his phone before it really has a chance to ring. "Morgana."

"Any word?" Morgana sounds exhausted and incredibly tense.

"Nothing yet. What's it like out there?"

"Media shit storm." Morgana says. Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed as tightly as he can.

"They know I'm here?"

"Yes."

"Shit." Arthur stands still for a moment. "What’s the worst?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

" _Art Affair Arthur - Lover Critically Wounded_." Arthur almost wants to laugh. If that's the worst they can come up with, they're not trying hard enough. "Uther is going to murder you." Morgana says, biting back a smile.

"Probably." Arthur looks up as a doctor enters the ward, followed closely by a hospital bed. Arthur feels a wave of absolute terror crash over him. "Morgana I've got to go." He hangs up before she can protest.

Merlin is being wheeled past him. He is lying unconscious on the bed, surrounded by machines, tubes and wires. He looks incredibly pale and skeletal, just exactly like someone who has almost died. Arthur fights back the desire to be sick.

This is all his, Arthur's, fault.

Judging by the look on his face, the surgeon seems to agree.

"I know you are who you are, but you’re not his next of kin and I can't tell you anything." The surgeon says, stepping aside as they wheel Merlin past and into a room. Arthur doesn't argue. He's seen Merlin, and he's alive. Maybe just, but that's something. The surgeon goes to speak to a nurse and they talk in low voices, their backs turned to Arthur. He wishes Gaius were here still. Gaius would tell him what was going on.

He can hear a lot of activity from inside Merlin's room. After a few minutes two porters and a nurse exit. The surgeon signs a few bits of paper and then leaves the ward.

The nurse comes over to where Arthur is standing. She has very brown, very kind eyes. "Hello there. My name is Anne. My colleague, Margaret, and I will be looking after your friend today. We're going to go in now and make sure he's comfortable, then you can go and see him if you like."

Arthur nods, still feeling as though he might be sick, and recommences his pacing.

The time drags by.

When Anne finally beckons Arthur into the room he can't bear to go further than the doorway, terrified of what he might see.

"He's sedated, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't talk to him if there's something you wanted to say." Anne says, patting Arthur gently on the arm and closing the door on her way out.

Arthur composes himself for a moment then walks slowly to the centre of the room. There is an unearthly glow surrounding Merlin’s bed, most of the light coming from a bedside lamp, but there are a lot of machines, too. Merlin lays in the centre of the bed, slightly inclined, his face turned to his right. There is an oxygen cannula nestled in his nostrils, the plastic tubes curling around his ears and away.

Arthur approaches the bed, gripping the bed rails tightly.

There is a thick white bandage over Merlin's right shoulder, arm and chest, but the rest of his upper body is bare. He is very thin, too thin; he looks so fragile, almost breakable.

 _Not breakable,_  Arthur reminds himself, _broken._

Waves of guilt crash over Arthur. Merlin wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. Arthur wishes it _had_ been him that had been shot rather than Merlin. Arthur wishes it had been anyone, _anyone_ else.

Without really thinking about his actions, Arthur reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind Merlin's ear, an action he has watched Merlin himself perform countless times before. As he does this his fingers brush the edge of Merlin’s ear and the contact of skin on skin makes Arthur's breath catch in his throat.

Merlin is so incredibly beautiful that Arthur can't stand it. His face is thrown into dramatic shadows in the dim light, the shape of his left cheekbone casting darker shadows on his pale face. Arthur runs one thumb as gently as possible over the edge of that cheek, his fingers following the curve of Merlin's jaw down his arched neck and along to the hollow at the base of his throat.

How many times has Arthur imagined touching this very spot?

Arthur can just barely see the beat of Merlin's pulse in his neck. He experiences a painful and vivid  flashback - pressing hard on Merlin's shoulder, watching the blood puddle out of him onto the gallery floor. That miracle heartbeat had come so close to stopping.

Arthur moves his hand away and takes a step back, gripping the bed rails tightly again, then lowering his head between his outstretched arms. An unfinished escapes his lips, sounding harsh in the quiet room. Arthur struggles not to break down - he feels completely and utterly hollowed out by the desperate agony of his feelings for Merlin and the pain of it is unbearable.

After a few more strangled sobs Arthur manages to pull himself together. His exhaustion is beginning to set in. There is a chair beside the bed and Arthur carefully rearranges it so that he'll be able to see Merlin's face, then settles down.

He considers finding some coffee so that he'll be able to stay awake, but before he's even formulated a vague plan he's sound asleep, the dim lights from Merlin's heart monitor illuminating his face.

*

Arthur climbs the final flight of stairs back to Merlin's ward. He'd woken with a sore back and, after checking with Anne that Merlin was stable, he'd gone in search of coffee. He bought enough for everyone and his security are distributing all the cups.

As he gets closer to the room he slows down because he can hear voices inside.

"Gaius?"

Arthur's heart leaps into his mouth. That's Merlin voice, albeit rough and broken. He must be awake!

“Of course Gaius told me, you complete moron. I’m your next of kin, remember?” Will’s voice is clouded with emotion. He must have arrived to London safely, then. Arthur is glad Merlin has his friend here beside him, but he's pretty sure Will can fuck off back to Scotland, thank you very much. Arthur is seconds away from bursting through the door.

“What happened, then?” Will asks.

“Got shot.” Arthur can hear Merlin say, his voice incredibly quiet and weak.

“Because of Arthur.” Will says, and not in a nice way. "Why did you do it, Merls?"

In the hallway, Arthur holds his breath. He was planning on asking Merlin this exact question himself.

"Had to."

"You didn't have to do anything, Merlin. You almost died." Will sounds as though he's choking back tears.

"He's the Prince." Merlin says, quite clearly. "Had to."

Arthur feels the edges of his whole world collapsing around him. _Had to_?

Had to?

Merlin had saved his life out of a sense of obligation and nothing more.

_Had to._

Arthur can't even move.

"You almost died." Will repeats, his voice catching, overcome with emotion.

"I'm sorry." Merlin sounds so tired, and he's beginning to slur his words.

"You can't die on me, Merlin."

"Won't."

"I can't... I can't..."

"I know."

"I can't lose you."

There is silence in the room. Arthur peels himself off the wall and turns to leave. He shouldn’t be here, he can’t be here any longer.

Will says one last thing that Arthur can't hear.

Then, as though his ears are as desperate as his heart to hear Merlin say the words, he slows down long enough for Merlin to say "I love you, too."

If only the words were directed at him.

*

“Gaius says he's awake. Have you talked to him?” Morgana asks from her end of the phone. Arthur, trudging down the hospital stairs in a fog, barely registers the question. It's OK, though, because Morgana doesn't seem like she needs him to answer.

“Gaius tells us his friend is there too. Is that the one you met in Scotland. Your father has said it is safe enough to return to the Palace, it seems the attackers are lying low now, though if he had his way you'd be locked in a bomb-proof bunker, I think. Are you even there, Arth?”

“He saved me out of a sense of obligation. ” Arthur says, talking over his cousin, hearing the deadness in his voice. He’d thought for a few blissful hours that he might have a chance with Merlin, but now it seems he’s back to the beginning. Didn’t Merlin’s words to William prove that? He feels nothing for Arthur except a sense of obligation. “Because I'm _royalty_.”

“And you heard him say this? In exactly those words?” Morgana asks. Arthur sighs in response. “No, I'm sorry, Arthur but that's not good enough. It's time you two actually talked. A proper conversation is in order, I think. I'll talk to gwen. I'll sort it out, just leave it to me.”

Arthur hangs up the phone as he waits at the rear door for a signal from Valiant that he is clear to go to the waiting car. His cousin is probably arranging a nice little get together, at the hospital, probably, to force Arthur and Merlin to speak to each other. Normally Arthur would be slightly outraged and incredibly nervous, but the only emotions he can manage at the moment are exhaustion and despair.

As the car drives through his city he barely even looks out the window, too intent on replaying the conversation he'd overheard and the implications of what Merlin and Will had said. Talk to Merlin, Morgana had advised.

Just talk to him.

If only it were that simple.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 33 - In which Arthur has a conversation with Merlin, and Merlin gets to demonstrate some of his magical skills.
> 
> Chapter tags: major physical injury  
> See end of chapter for notes.

**Chapter 33**

“Gwen said what?” Arthur asks, switching which hand is holding the phone as he pulls a comfortable jumper on over his head.

“She said, ‘Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid’.” Morgana replies, and Arthur can hear her smile.

“Gwen didn't say that, Goethe did. And it's not even proper advice.” Arthur says, stepping into his shoes. “Is she there with you? Ask her to ask her boyfriend why he lied to me for so long.”

“She's not here, she's at the hospital already, I'm just relaying a message. And leave off criticising Lancelot, will you? You're only angry with him because you maybe could have been shagging Merlin all this time and you need someone to blame for your misery.”

Arthur closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, silently counting backwards from ten. “I told you, he doesn't fancy me. Remember? I heard him tell Will he was only saving my life because…”

“Because you're the Prince, I know, I know. Would you just come to the hospital? We're all going to be there. You can talk to Merlin and clear the air. Ok?”

Arthur checks his reflection to ensure he looks as careless as possible without being untidy, then lets himself out of his rooms and heads down the corridor. “I'm on my way.” He tells his cousin, and he hangs up on her squeal of delight.

His friends have taken the admission of his feelings for Merlin very well, and have only started teasing him the minimal amount now that they're sure Merlin isn't in critical condition any longer. Arthur knows he will have to speak to Merlin about all of this, but he has let go of his hope that Merlin might return his feelings. If Merlin does fancy him a bit that's grand, but his emotions might not be in it. It's one thing to want to shag somebody, it's another thing entirely to want to live inside their bones.

However, following Morgana’s suggestion, Arthur will broach the subject and just hope that whatever Merlin has to say in response it isn't cheers pal see you after.

Either way, Arthur is tired of keeping his feelings to himself and guessing. So they'll talk.

*

"Well, this is the second time you've saved his life." Gwaine says, handing Merlin a cup of ice water. "I don't think a quick snog is going to be enough this time, mate. Do it again I'll have to shag you."

"Oi, steady on mate," says Lance, "there's ladies present."

"Aye, but Percy doesn't mind, really." Gwen says, smiling.

"Hey, if he saves Arthur's life again, I'll shag him myself." Percy adds. Merlin chokes on his water and starts coughing, but stops himself immediately as each cough tugs his stitched wound painfully.

"If anyone gets to shag him in thanks for saving my life, don't you think it should be me?" Arthur's voice comes from where he's just arrived in the doorway. Merlin's eyes snap up to find Arthur's, but Arthur isn't looking at him.

"Do I get any say in this?" Merlin croaks; his throat is still sore from the intubation tube.

"No." Leon says.

"Nope." Adds Morgana.

"Naw." Says Will. "Sounds like some sort of Ancient Royal Custom."

Merlin wants to curse Will into a trillion useless pieces, but instead he just plays along, rolling his eyes. "Not you, too, Will."

Will holds his hands up as though surrendering. In the midst of the laughter Merlin seeks Arthur's gaze and finally finds it; his eyes are alight with mirth and incredibly blue. Though he's clean-shaven and tidy he looks carelessly thrown together and effortlessly handsome. Merlin wants to eat him alive.  

"Don't worry," Arthur says, lowering a wink, "I'll go easy on you."

Everyone in the room laughs, loudly, and Merlin laughs along with them, but really he wants to vanish on the spot. He knows he is being teased, knows it's all in jest, but he wonders whether everyone can suddenly read his mind.

Even with everyone’s eyes on them, Merlin can’t look away from Arthur. Although he's embarrassed enough to want to evaporate, his overwhelming feeling is one of relief - if Arthur is here laughing with all of them, then he must not hate Merlin for the magic. The look of terror on Arthur’s face the night of the attack must have been because Merlin had been shot, though he didn’t know that at the time.

"How are you feeling, then?" Gwen asks, when the laughter dies down. From the way Lance is holding her hand, Merlin guesses their relationship is no longer a secret. This makes Merlin very happy. It seems as though a lot has happened since the shooting.

"Like I got shot?" Merlin answers, trying to keep the tone light.

"I'm not saying I'm glad you're in hospital, but you are lucky to be here anyway," says Gwaine, "It would be crazy out there for you right now."

Merlin turns to look at Gwaine. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't told him?" Gwaine asks. Gwen and Will exchange a meaningful glance and Merlin looks around at everyone in turn.

"We were waiting until he felt better." Admits Lance.

"Tell me what?"

"Apparently," Arthur says, locking eyes with Merlin again, "according to the papers, anyway, you and I are involved in a secret love affair."

Merlin can feel the heat in his cheeks. "Secret affair?"

"Not secret anymore." Laughs Percy.

"The papers," explains Gwen, giving Percy an admonishing look, "They've jumped to the conclusion that you and Arthur are... Well, that you're...."

"Lovers." Finishes Arthur. Merlin is definitely blushing now. Arthur just looks at him steadily. Merlin wants to be unconscious again. In fact, the longer everyone stares at him, he kind of wishes the gunmen had finished him off.

"There's interviews and everything." Gwen says, placing a hand kindly on Merlin’s forearm.

"Aye. They went to the village, Merls." Will says, practically choking on his laughter, "Old man McHugh went on the record about you being a Royalist."

"Christ." Merlin's cries, "I'll never be able to go back!"

"Calm yer tits, awbody kens McHugh's an auld daftie."

Everyone is laughing again. Arthur just keeps staring at Merlin with his eyelids narrowed as though trying to solve a difficult equation. Merlin wishes they were alone so they could talk about what happened properly.

"It'll calm down soon, don't worry, once they realise it's not true. It's not the first time they've been desperately wrong about my love life."

"Wrong, are they?" Asks Gwaine, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You've never taken anyone else to a rooftop pool at midnight!"

Percy makes a stupid "ooohhhh!" noise. Merlin's stomach drops. How do they know about that? The owner had promised him. Although, if the price was right, Merlin supposed anyone could be bought. His gunshot wounds were proof of that.

"Hey, don't look at me, it was Merlin who arranged those particular evenings." Arthur says.

Percy is now making kissing noises. Merlin wonders if he could actually pull off turning someone into a toad.

"Tell me, Merlin, how does it feel to be the romantic one in this relationship?" Teases Morgause. Merlin squeezes his eyes tight shut, never having been so embarrassed in his entire life.

"Don't play all your cards too early, mate, or you'll run out of ideas." Warns Leon.

"Aye, how are you going to make the proposal special?" Will chokes out between howls of laughter.

"You wouldn't want me to get bored, now would you?" Quips Arthur, his voice low and dangerous. Merlin’s eyes flash open. If even Arthur is joining in with the teasing, it can't be that bad, can it?

"I don't know," adds Percy, as though thinking hard, "a moonlit stroll through an art museum is fairly romantic as well."

"Oh, aye, it was. Very romantic indeed.” Merlin says, keeping his voice as expressionless as he can. “I was having an absolutely corking time right until I took a bullet for him."

The room falls silent and the mood changes in an instant; everyone looking back and forth between Arthur and Merlin to judge the reaction.

“Two, actually." says Arthur, very solemnly. The tension which has been hovering at the edges breaks over them all like a wave. Arthur and Merlin continue to stare at each other, neither of them blinking.

Gwaine jumps up from his chair very suddenly. "I fancy some fresh air. Anyone?" Everyone agrees, and in a wildly transparent bid to leave Arthur and Merlin alone together, the room empties quickly.

Before Will leaves he kisses Merlin on the top of his head and whispers "Be careful” into his ear.

The click of the door shutting feels very symbolic. Arthur hasn't moved. His hair is backlit from the light coming in the window and is glowing like a halo of gold. He looks incredibly regal and completely untouchable.

"I never did get a chance to thank you, Merlin, for saving my life."

"You don't need to thank me, Arthur."

"Yes, I do." Arthur walks to the edge of the bed, looking down at Merlin, his hair still tinged with golden light. Merlin's heart breaks to see something so beautiful.

"I would do it again." Merlin says, looking away from Arthur and hoping his voice doesn't crack.

"I didn’t ask you to do that. I wouldn’t ever ask you to do that.” Arthur says very quickly, Merlin looks up at him and Arthur doesn't look away, his blue eyes searching Merlin’s.

Merlin wonders how honest to be and, looking at Arthur's unreadable, glorious features, decides in an instant that he has nothing to lose. This is it, this is his time. "I would die to protect you, Arthur."

“Why?"

Embarrassingly, Merlin feels the sting of tears in his eyes. "Don't you know?"

Arthur swallows hard, nodding down at his own hands. His shoulders are strained as though he's carrying a great weight. "Because I'm the Prince."

Merlin reaches out a shaking arm and takes one of Arthur's hands into his own. His whole body seems to tremble at the touch. Arthur's skin is dry but soft, Merlin runs his thumb over Arthur's knuckles, hears Arthur's sharp intake of breath, not letting go even when Arthur tries to pull away. He can't have come this far to give up now.

"No, you sodding great prat." Merlin says, his voice thankfully steady, "Not because you're the Prince, because you're Arthur."

He tries to say a lot of things with that one name, and maybe Arthur understands this, because there are suddenly tears in his eyes, too. Arthur lets out a half sobbing, half laughing sound, then leans in towards Merlin, raising his other hand to cup the back of Merlin's head.

When their lips meet a shock of electricity thrums through Merlin, raising the hairs on his arms and neck. Arthur's lips are soft and a little chapped, pressing firmly but not demanding.

It is perfection beyond anything Merlin had imagined.

When Merlin runs his tongue along Arthur's bottom lip, Arthur tightens his grip on Merlin, pulling him closer and angling their mouths to deepen the kiss.

Merlin lets out a moan of complete want and Arthur groans in response. The heat between them is palpable. Merlin twines one hand through Arthur's hair, glorying in the silken texture.

The heart rate monitor beeps twice, very loudly, and Arthur pulls away. His lips are swollen and red, his hair dishevelled. He bites his bottom lip, watching Merlin's mouth. Then he kisses Merlin again, more forcefully, as though he can't stop himself. He takes Merlin's bottom lip between his teeth and tugs gently, both hands in Merlin's hair, holding on for dear life.

 *

“You thought I was dating Gwen?” Merlin manages, between laughs. Arthur glares at him, which only makes Merlin laugh louder.

“To be fair, it was an honest assumption with the information at hand.” Morgana says kindly, reaching out and placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur turns his glare towards his cousin.

“Yes, well, if anyone had bothered to tell me that Lance and Gwen were dating…”

“Or if you'd bothered to actually ask me.” Merlin says, his mouth hitched in half a smile. Arthur misses what Morgana says next because he's imagining running his tongue over Merlin's lips again.

“Or if you'd realised that I am, indeed, gay as fuck.” Merlin says, and Arthur laughs as loudly as Morgana.

“Imagine what having an actual conversation with somebody can accomplish.” Morgana says, shaking her head at them both as she rises and puts her coat on. “Now, as much as I'd love to stay and discuss both of you being complete idiots for the rest of the afternoon, I must away.” Morgana kisses Arthur’s cheek and pats Merlin on the top of his head as she departs. “I'm glad you're feeling better, Merlin.”

After Morgana leaves, Merlin sort of deflates a little, sinking back onto his bed and closing his eyes. He looks exhausted. Arthur watches him breathe for a few long minutes, watching the curve of his eyelashes against his pale skin, and the movement of his chest beneath the blankets as he inhales slowly. Arthur reaches out a hand and grasps Merlin’s where it lies at the edge of the bed, running Merlin’s fingers between his own. Unbidden, Arthur’s heart begins to beat faster. He can't believe he is allowed to touch Merlin like this... He looks up to see Merlin watching him, and he drops Merlin’s hand self-consciously. Merlin takes Arthur's hand back into his own, a soft smile on his face.

“Will you stay with me?” Merlin asks, his eyes closing as he lays his head back on his pillow. Before Arthur can even answer, Merlin is asleep.

“Always.” Arthur whispers into the quiet room, not letting go of Merlin’s hand.

*

Merlin wakes after a while to see Arthur reading quietly in the chair beside his bed. Before Arthur realises he's awake, Merlin studies him. He takes in the profile in the dim light, the set of Arthur’s jaw and the way his lips curve in a smile as he reads. Merlin still feels slightly faint at the idea that his own feelings might be mirrored in Arthur. It doesn't seem like Arthur is just using him or anything. It hadn't felt like that when Arthur was kissing him, anyway.

A loud beep echos from the heart monitor again, betraying Merlin’s reaction to the memory, and Arthur looks up, startled.

“Are you OK? What's wrong? Should I call the nurse?” There's a hint of panic in Arthur's voice and Merlin smiles indulgently at him.

“I'm fine. I was just thinking about kissing you, that's all.” Merlin says, surprising himself with his own forwardness. It's incredibly strange for him to be saying these things out loud.

“Oh, you were, were you?” Arthur replies with a devious smile, ratcheting Merlin's heart rate to an even higher pitch as he marks his place in his book and the stands beside Merlin’s bed. Merlin reaches up and grabs Arthur's shirt, pulling him closer over the raised rail, and pressing their lips together, gently.

Arthur’s mouth opens eagerly beneath his, but there is no urgency in the caress of Merlin’s tongue against Arthur's lips. There are no unstoppable moans of desire, only sighs and tenderness. Merlin threads his fingers through Arthur's hair and explores the ridges and dips of the muscles of Arthur’s neck. One of Arthur’s thumbs runs along the bottom of Merlin’s jaw and strokes the soft skin behind Merlin's ear, his other hand grips the edge of the sheets where they cover Merlin’s chest.

When Arthur moves his mouth to Merlin’s neck, Merlin leans his head back, drawing in a deep breath and trying to remain calm. His attempts fail completely when Arthur takes one of his earlobes between his teeth, and the heart monitor emits a shrill noise that doesn't stop.

With an apologetic look of chagrin, Arthur leaves Merlin’s side and sits back in the armchair, picking up his book to a random page. By the look on Margaret’s face when she enters the room, Arthur's nonchalance is fooling precisely no one.

Merlin can't stop smiling.

*

[text conversation between Merlin and Arthur:  
**Merlin:** I had a dream about you.  
**Merlin:** It was not PG.  
**Arthur:** Merlin! 1) I am in a meeting with my security and some very important people from Scotland Yard.  
**Arthur:** 2) You are in the hospital.  
**Arthur:** 3) Tell me more.]

*

The story breaks on Merlin’s third day in hospital. Someone has leaked a CCTV image which is the front page of all the papers. Arthur, having slept in after staying late at the hospital, is woken cautiously by Morgana.

“I'm sorry, but I thought you should know.” Morgana says, handing Arthur the papers. Arthur, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, struggles to bring the page into focus.

“It can't be.” Arthur says, surprised to hear his voice so calm.

“I'm so sorry.” Morgana says, and there are tears in her eyes.

Arthur looks back down at the paper, it is unmistakably Merlin in this picture. Merlin in a close embrace with Edwin Muirden.

Fighting back the urge to punch someone, Arthur scrambles to get dressed. He knew, he just knew they hadn't heard the end of Edwin fucking Muirden.

“Where are you going?” Morgana asks.

“To see Merlin.” Arthur says, though this should be obvious. Merlin will tell him that there's nothing to the rumours, and Arthur does need to hear it from Merlin himself. He's had enough of just _assuming_.

“Are you kidding? Uther is never going to let you go, not after this. The city is crawling with paparazzi desperate to get a picture of your reaction to the story. They're lined up.four deep at the gates.”

“I don't care. I'm going to see him.” Arthur says, getting down on all fours and reaching under his bed for a hastily discarded trainer.

“No you most certainly are not.” Arthur's father says from the doorway. Arthur jumps up, trainer in hand.

“Father...” Arthur says, with intent, brandishing his trainer in the general direction of the King.

“Arthur, you will obey me.” Uther interrupts, using his commanding voice. “You are not to leave the Palace for any reason until I tell you you are able. This is a big enough mess already and I will not have you add to it with your thoughtlessness.”

Arthur knows not to argue with that tone of voice and looks down at his feet respectfully.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, Father.”

“You will stay within the Palace until I tell you otherwise?”

“Yes, Father.” Arthur says, almost choking on the words.

“Good. I am glad to see that you know how serious these rumours are, and I am glad to see you taking them seriously.”

If Arthur was ever going to stand up for himself against Uther, now would be the time. He catches eyes with Morgana and she flashes him a warning look. Arthur shakes his head. No, he will not fight back. Not now, not like this.

Once he has convinced Uther that he is following his orders without complaint, then he will act. He will go to see Merlin and he will stay with him in the hospital and wherever he goes after that. Uther has tried for years to interfere in Arthur's love life, constantly setting Arthur up with people he has chosen. Well, Arthur has chosen Merlin, and his father will not keep them apart.

But Arthur knows better than to argue.

“Good,” Uther says, visibly relaxing. He had probably steeled himself for a blowout. “Now, I have made arrangements for the boy to be transferred here to the Palace for the remainder of his recuperation.”

“What?” It is Morgana who speaks this time, her voice conveying utter shock. Arthur can only stare at his father, mouth open.

“Hopefully we can stay under the radar, and once he is here we will sort out all this nonsense with Mr Muirden.”

“Thank you.” Arthur says, almost overcome with a desire to hug his father. Uther nods at him, then at Morgana, and then he turns to leave the room.

“I do want you to happy, Arthur, I just want you to be careful, too.” Uther says, turning back to him, his voice sounding strange.

Arthur looks at him for a few seconds, wondering if he believes that. In the end he decides he does. “I know, Father.”

Morgana and Arthur wait until Uther is definitely gone before coming together to discuss what has happened, in whispers, just in case someone is listening.

*

“What the fuck kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?” Will asks, throwing a stack of papers onto Merlin's bed. Merlin doesn't even look at them. He's already seen them, of course, how could he not?

“Give me your phone.” Merlin demands, holding his hand out as though there's even the slightest chance of Will doing what he's asked.

“No.” Will says, collapsing into an armchair. “They had to sneak me in through a rubbish chute just to come and see you. There's enough cameras outside this could be a movie premier. What have you done?”

“If you're asking whether or not I've shagged Edwin Muirden you can fuck off.” Merlin raises his voice, trying to get out of bed to throttle Will. He's severely hampered by his tubes and wires and by the fact that his shoulder is so thickly bandaged he can't move it. “Now give me your phone. There's no charge on mine and I need to call Arthur.”

“No.” Will says, again

“What have I ever done to you?” Merlin asks, dramatically, falling back into his bed.

"You don't need to call Arthur because we're going to see him.”

Merlin looks sideways at Will and then chuffs in annoyance. “Oh, aye, I'll get right on that.” He says, gesturing at all of the tubes which are holding him hostage.

“They're transferring you to Buckingham Palace, you idiot. King's orders. You'll have a team coming with you to look after you and make sure your recovery goes off as planned.” Will explains with a smile on his face. Merlin stares with wide eyes.

“King's orders?”

“Apparently. You’ve sure got somebody’s attention. Now, I've been sent to help you pack. Where's your things?”

“I haven't any, I don't think. Just my phone. Not sure what they did with my clothes.”

“I'll ask. You stay here.” Will says as he leaves the room.

Merlin shuffles through the papers on his bed feeling miserable. He's been trying to get a hold of Arthur all morning. He needs to explain that the pictures aren't as bad as they look. He needs to explain that he had been telling Edwin Muirden to fuck off, not saying fuck me!

All he can think of is Arthur reading these papers and believing there's truth there. That Merlin has kept this from him. That Merlin would ever even consider shagging Edwin fucking Muirden.

He can't let that absolute waste of oxygen Edwin fucking Muirden ruin things between him and Arthur, not now there finally is something between him and Arthur.

His time with Arthur has been so incredible that Merlin had actually checked his painkiller dosage with the doctors to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. They had assured him that his medications were strong, but not strong enough to alter reality. Although Merlin could have quite happily spent the rest if his life kissing Arthur, eventually Margaret and Anne had stormed in and forced Arthur to leave the building before Merlin suffered heart failure. Arthur has not been back since,  having been occupied with meetings and press conferences after the assassination attempt.

Merlin leans back in bed, eyes closed, remembering the feel of Arthur's mouth on his, and that's when it happens. His wound, which had been healing, suddenly begins bleeding again. Heavily.

Merlin summons Margaret who comes in smiling, but her face changes immediately and she runs for a doctor without saying anything at all. By the time they return, Merlin is unconscious.

*

Merlin is unconscious when they bring him to the Palace. Arthur can't stand the sight of him lying there so pale. He tries to follow him into the room they have chosen for him (right next to Arthur's), but he gets pushed aside by medical professionals.

Once they have him settled and plugged in, they let Arthur in to see him. They have managed to stem the blessing but not stop it. No one can tell him what is happening nor what has gone wrong. Arthur pulls over an armchair and sits himself down to begin his vigil.

*

Merlin wakes to hear somebody struggling, whimpering almost. He looks around him in the dimness and sees Arthur seated in a chair by his bedside, clearly asleep, but thrashing his head and obviously in distress. Merlin tries to reach out to him, but is once again hampered by plastic tubes, wires, and exhaustion.

“Merlin...no. Please, not him. Not this time, please.” Arthur says, as clearly as though they are having a conversation. Merlin tries to untangle himself, tries to go to Arthur, but he can barely move. He tries to say Arthur's name as loudly as possible, but it comes as a croak.

In the end he resorts to magic and sends a tiny jolt in Arthur's direction to wake him. That little burst of magic saps Merlin utterly, and he feels himself slump against the bed.

Arthur rockets into wakefulness, his face wide open and terrified. Merlin tries to look reassuring, but his eyes are already closing.

“Merlin?” Arthur asks, shocked. “What are you…” Arthur looks around and takes in the room and their surroundings. “What did you do?”

“Woke you.” Merlin mumbles, voice a whisper.

“With magic?” Arthur asks, his voice unusually stern.  

“You sounded scared.” Merlin finally manages, his eyes closing.

“You shouldn't have done that, you idiot.” Arthur says, pulling Merlin’s blankets up around him as though he's tucking a small child into his bed. Merlin wants to reply with a smart comment, but his brain is very fuzzy. “Look at you.”

“Stay with me?” Merlin asks, not caring how it sounds. He moves over as far as he can in the bed and indicates that Arthur should join him. Arthur hesitates but climbs in, taking care to organise all of Merlin's attachments, then he curls himself against the left side of Merlin’s body, resting his head on Merlin’s shoulder.

Neither of them speak again and eventually they both fall asleep.

When Merlin wakes in the morning he is alone in his bed in the middle of one of the rooms in the Palace, and he can't tell whether he'd dreamed Arthur being there or not.

*

Merlin drifts in and out of consciousness for four days, and Arthur rarely leaves his room. He's had arguments with the healthcare staff, his security team, his father, and Morgana, but he isn't going anywhere.

Due to Gaius’s careful research it has come to light that there was poison in the bullets which were used to shoot Merlin, and that the poison is of magical origin which means that it only activated a long time after being introduced to his system. It is weakening him, draining his powers and causing his bleeding to continue no matter what the doctors do.

Gaius speaks to Arthur in confidence to admit that the only person he knows who could possibly heal Merlin is Merlin himself, but the poison is sapping his energy. Nimueh has tried, but it is beyond her skill to heal.

Will tries to explain to Arthur what he thinks Merlin needs, but it is a huge request and Arthur isn't sure Merlin would thank them for it. Either way, he speaks to Valiant and begins to make the arrangements.

On day three Edwin Muirden arrives. Arthur attempts to have him thrown bodily from the building, but he is overturned. Apparently Edwin is here to try to help Merlin, but Arthur stays with them the entire time, not taking his eyes off the pair of them as Edwin tries to bring Merlin round.

“Incidentally, Arthur, although I have spoken to your father already, I feel I must issue you with an apology as well. It was a bit of a mess. Although it was not I who leaked those photos to the papers.”

“Sure.” Arthur says, his fists clenched, watching with daggers in his eyes as Edwin turns down Merlin's sheets to expose his shoulder.

“It wasn't. I may be upset that you and I did not work out, but I am not a child.” Edwin says, his hands hovering over Merlin's wound.

“For being upset about us, you sure moved on quickly.”

“Why dwell?” Edwin says, closing his eyes. Arthur doesn't say anything as Edwin is obviously concentrating, murmuring indecipherable words under his breath.

After ten long minutes during which nothing at all happens, Edwin gives up and slumps in on himself, defeated.

Arthur, not desiring to remain in Edwin Muirden’s company for any length of time, ushers him from the room. Edwin stops in the doorway, turning to Arthur.

“For what it's worth, he turned me down. Your Merlin. My advice? If you get him, keep him.”

Arthur watches Edwin Muirden walk away down the corridor, feeling suddenly rather fond of him.

*

On day four of Merlin’s struggle Valiant informs Arthur that the preparations are complete, and that an ambulance is standing by to transport Merlin to a secluded area. As per Arthur’s insistence, no one else knows about their plans, so it takes Arthur, Valiant and Will a long time to remove Merlin from the Palace unnoticed. Valiant remains at the Palace to answer any questions which might arise should anyone discover Merlin is absent. Will drives the vehicle and Arthur directs them to the chosen location; an abandoned farm in the relative middle of nowhere.

“And you're sure it's deserted?” Will says, looking over the steering wheel, cautious.

“Absolutely. Valiant and I have checked and double checked the land records and it belongs to the bank. Locked, sealed and empty. What do we do now?”

In answer Will excuses himself to the patient area of the ambulance and shakes Merlin awake roughly.

“We're here. Give us a few minutes’ head start, ok?” Merlin nods, seemingly unable to speak. Arthur's heart is in his throat. The journey has not done Merlin good. He is as white as snow and trembling from head to foot. Arthur joins Will beside Merlin.

“Don't you fucking die on me, Emrys.” Arthur says to him, his voice stern, but caressing the side of Merlin's face as tenderly as possible.

Not caring one iota for the fact that Will is there, or the fact that kissing Arthur back might actually kill Merlin, Arthur leans in and kisses him gently, whispering the word “please” against his lips.

After that he and Will are running, flat out, down the road and away from Merlin and the borrowed patient transport vehicle.

*

Merlin is so weak he doesn't know if this will work at all. Whatever poison they have speared him with is certainly doing its job. After Will and Arthur leave, Merlin counts to 300 twice, and then he lets his guards down.

Immediately he can sense every insect and creature in the farmland close to him. Arthur was right, the place is deserted. Even the closest mice have skittered away from the sound of the vehicle. That suits Merlin, the less living things that are close, the less casualties.

Merlin removes the bandages from his shoulder wound and his fingers come back wet with blood. Thinking there's no time to waste, Merlin stretches his magic out into the air and sucks all the energy he can from his environment. Deep within the earth insects and worms shrivel and die. The grass and plants wither. The moisture is wicked from the air, and all the while Merlin's strength increases.

He concentrates harder than he ever has before, hovering his hand over his wound. It feels hot and wet and intensely painful, and then, all of a sudden, it doesn't.

*

Ten minutes after they leave Merlin, Arthur and Will sit side by side beneath a broken wooden fence, neither of them speaking. The night has gone ghostly still, but all the while there is a distant crackling noise like wildfire.

Arthur keeps his eyes on the ambulance, which is barely visible in the darkness. He's just considering asking Will when he thinks they can return when he sees the line of destruction which Merlin is causing by doing whatever it is that he does.

The line is getting closer to them and it isn't slowing down.

“Run.” Arthur says to Will, dragging him upwards with him as he stands. Will takes one panicked look at what Arthur is seeing and then they are running as fast as they can. 


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 34 - In which Arthur and Merlin get to know each other a little better.
> 
> This is where my story starts to earn it's Mature rating, guys, so just FYI.

**Chapter 34**

Arthur and Will head back down the farm road, the distance seemingly endless now that they're walking and not running. All around them is utter devastation. Every blade of grass, every flower, every living thing as far as Arthur can see is completely dead. What sort of power must Merlin possess to cause such widespread destruction?

Arthur can feel Will's eyes on him as though he's hoping to judge Arthur's reaction to this display of frightening power, but all Arthur can think about is Merlin. About seeing Merlin and seeing if this trick has worked.

They crest a hill not far from where they left the ambulance and Arthur's heart gives a painful shudder in his chest. Here is Merlin, walking confidently towards them. Arthur fights back hard against the desire to run to him.

As they get closer Arthur can see that Merlin looks to be completely cured. He is still wearing the hospital issued trousers, and he has a sheet wrapped around him like around cloak. His exposed shoulder shows a wound which looks freshly healed. Arthur wants to go to him and take him in his arms, wants to express his pure relief that Merlin is alive, but something stops him, and it isn't the fact that Will is there. There is a palpable aura of energy radiating from Merlin, and as Arthur draws nearer the hair on his arms lifts as though there's lightning in the air. Merlin's eyes are a gleaming, molten gold.

He is at once the most beautiful and the most frightening thing Arthur has ever seen. 

*

No one speaks a word on the drive back to the Palace, and as the after effects of the magic trickle away from him Merlin begins to feel self-conscious. He knows Will has seen Merlin display power like this before, but Arthur definitely hasn't.

Since he and Arthur haven't had a chance to really talk over anything that's happened since the museum, Merlin hasn't had a chance to say,  _ oh, hey, I can alter the laws of the universe, btw. _ So, all in all it's an awkward car journey.

Unbeknownst to either of his companions Merlin makes a very subtle change to the destruction he's left in his wake, altering the pattern to make it look as if a fire had broken out at the farmhouse. This way there will be less questions.

As much as Merlin would like to spend the remainder of the evening with Arthur celebrating his newfound good health in a thoroughly physical way, as soon as they return to the Palace, Merlin seeks out Gaius. Mostly to inform him that he isn't dying anymore, but also to discuss what Gaius knows about the attack. 

He tells Arthur he will see him in the morning and heads down a corridor with Will beside him.

*

Arthur barely sleeps. He can think of nothing but Merlin. Merlin with his hands fisted in Arthur's hair. Merlin with his lips pressed against Arthur's neck. Merlin sleeping in the hospital bed curled against Arthur. Merlin with his eyes glowing gold.

Arthur tries many things to distract him as he waits for Merlin to arrive the next day. He checks the papers for news of the square mile of death Merlin created yesterday, but thankfully finds only a short article about a house fire. He tries to do coursework, but that lasts roughly fifteen seconds. He even goes so far as to read the report prepared for him by Scotland Yard, but lays it aside quickly, not wanting to relive the shooting just yet. 

In the end he's sitting in his desk chair staring up at his London skyline when the knock comes on his door.

“Come in.”

"Hello Arthur." Merlin says, entering the room. He looks heart-stoppingly beautiful. His eyes have lost their golden gleam, but their blueness is, as usual, totally mesmerising. He's shaved and his hair looks freshly washed. Arthur feels the familiar pool of desire stir in his stomach, and his fingers twitch, longing to make contact with Merlin's pale, smooth skin, and every single thing about Merlin in this instant ratchets Arthur's desire to a higher pitch. The idea that all of Arthur's longings may be about to become reality makes him nearly unable to stop himself.

Merlin walks towards Arthur, his bottom lip caught in his teeth. Arthur comes around his desk and walks to meet Merlin halfway across the room. He takes Merlin into his arms, molding himself around Merlin's thin frame. His hands snake their way into Merlin's untidy hair and he pulls gently, bringing Merlin's chin up and arching his neck. 

"I've been wanting to do that for months, Emrys. You have no idea." Arthur growls, his voice low. He places a line of kisses along Merlin's exposed neck, tracing upwards and along his jaw. Merlin exhales a ragged breath, shuddering slightly. 

Arthur's hands find the hem of Merlin's shirt and pull it up over his shoulders. Merlin winces and lets out a gasp when he raises his right arm and Arthur stops suddenly. 

"Your arm!" Arthur says, feeling incredibly foolish for forgetting. 

"I'm fine, Arthur." Merlin assures him, grabbing at Arthur's shirt in desperation. "Please, don't stop."

At those words Arthur presses himself against Merlin, their hip bones grinding together. He can feel Merlin's erection against his own and the friction is almost painful. Merlin's hands knead Arthur's shoulders, his fingers gripping hard, as Arthur runs his tongue along Merlin’s collarbone to the hollow at the base of his neck and bites, gently, catching the tiniest piece of skin between his teeth. Pulling harder on Merlin’s hair, Arthur scrapes his teeth along the glorious length of exposed neck, then repeats the motion, kissing and licking and biting his way towards Merlin’s jaw.

“You've been driving me to distraction, Emrys. Ever since that first night at the pool, I can't stop myself. Sitting in State meetings all I can picture is your skin in the moonlight, the water running down your body.”

A strangled moan from Merlin and Arthur releases his grip, allowing Merlin to lower his chin once more. Their eyes meet for a millisecond, Merlin's clouded with raw desire, before Merlin’s mouth is on his. Merlin doesn't hesitate, but delves into Arthur's mouth, his tongue licking against Arthur's.

Arthur removes his shirt as quickly as possible, not wanting to break contact with Merlin's hands for any length of time. Merlin's skin is as silk smooth as Arthur had imagined and he sees stars behind his briefly closed eyelids at the realisation that this might finally,  _ finally  _ be happening.

Merlin kisses Arthur desperately, pulling him closer with one hand. His right hand is gripping Arthur's forearm, guiding him towards the bulge in his denims. Arthur runs his fingers as lightly as a feather over Merlin’s erection which is straining to be freed. Merlin moans Arthur's name like a prayer.

When Arthur finally manages to unbutton Merlin's denims (his hands are shaking), Merlin breaks away, taking a step back. His whole body is trembling. The intensity of the look in his eyes brings Arthur up short.

"What is it?" Arthur asks. "Is it your arm?"

"No, it's..." Merlin looks immensely sad all of a sudden. "I can't do this, Arthur."

"What? Why not?" Arthur hears how his voice sounds, desperate and terrified, but he doesn’t care. They can’t have come this far and give up now...

"You're still my  _ boss _ ." Merlin says, his voice aching. For a few brief seconds he looks incredibly small and vulnerable.

Arthur takes in the vision of Merlin standing there, his naked torso gloriously pale and white, his hair a complete mess, his lips swollen and moist with Arthur's own saliva. His jeans are slung low on his hips and he is very clearly aroused.

Arthur walks to the door behind Merlin and locks it, then he walks back to his desk, sitting on the edge. He doesn't take his eyes off Merlin as he lifts the receiver of the phone.

Merlin, obviously catching Arthur's intentions, stands locking eyes with him and not even blinking as he unblushingly runs his left hand teasingly over his erection and up along his ribcage, then runs the flat of his palm over his right nipple before pulling it into a tight pinch.

Arthur struggles to keep his voice flat. "George? It’s Arthur, hello."

Merlin's tongue comes out and wets his bottom lip. His right hand undoes the last two buttons of his jeans and his left hand goes to his neck, tracing the path Arthur has trailed with his mouth. His fingers dance along his collarbone before returning to his chest and capturing his nipple again. Arthur can hear his breath coming more rapidly, and all the while he does not blink.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to sack Mr. Emrys." Arthur palms himself as Merlin steps out of his jeans and stands there in only his boxer briefs. Arthur can feel his eyes widening as Merlin brings his left palm to his mouth and licks it slowly.

"Yes. Merlin Emrys. I want you to fire him. Effective immediately."

Merlin gives his other nipple a squeeze as he reaches his left hand into his briefs and runs it along his shaft. Arthur twitches painfully in his far too-tight trousers

"I'll sign the paperwork later. Good day, George." Arthur hangs up the phone and stands. Merlin has removed his briefs. He is, without a doubt the most beautiful thing Arthur has ever seen. 

He walks to Arthur, still stroking himself almost lazily. 

"Sorry about your job." Arthur says as Merlin's dexterous hands divest him of his remaining clothing. 

"S'alright," Merlin says, lowering himself to his knees, "I wasn't very good at it anyway." 

And then Merlin's mouth is on him. Those glorious, luscious red lips are stretched around his cock. Those cheeks are hollowed obscenely as Merlin runs his tongue along the bottom of his shaft. And Arthur loses himself completely, his head thrown back, his mouth repeating Merlin's name and his hands fisted in Merlin's thick black hair. 

*

When Merlin wakes the next morning it's to find Arthur propped up on one arm, just watching him. His hair is standing up all over the place and his eyes are heavy. Merlin feels his heart swell.

_ Finally.  _

"Good morning, your Highness." He says, a smile curling his lips. Arthur smiles down at him then leans in for a kiss. The feeling is incredible.

"I hope you're not too sore." Arthur says, rolling out of bed and padding across the room. Merlin blushes, knowing that Arthur isn't meaning his shoulder wound, but instead all the other aches he might have after their exertions. 

"Why?" Merlin asks, rolling onto his stomach and tangling in the bedclothes. He watches Arthur wander around the room, collecting various items of clothing.

"We've been summoned."

"Summoned? Your Father?" 

"Right in one." Arthur says, emerging from his wardrobe and walking to the bathroom. "I'm going for a shower. Do not follow me in here, Emrys, or we'll be even later than we already are."

Merlin settles himself back onto the bed. He stretches out, feeling the stiffness of his right shoulder and all of his other delicious aches. He rolls himself in Arthur's sheets and breathes in deeply. Arthur. He can't believe he's here. In Arthur's bed. Arthur, with whom Merlin has been in lust basically his entire life, and in love with since the day they met.  _ Arthur _ . 

Memories of their time together rush over him. None of his fantasies had ever even come close.

He can hear the sound of the water running in the shower. He pictures Arthur in there, water cascading down over his naked body.

Within seconds Merlin is painfully hard. He runs his fingers tentatively along the sensitive skin of his shaft, the light touch almost painful. His other hand draws up along his inner thigh, down into the hollow of his abdomen and up along the ladder of his ribcage. He says Arthur's name as he scrapes his nipple, palming himself.

"Christ, Emrys. You should come with a warning label." Merlin sits up. Arthur is standing in the doorway to the bathroom, steam pouring out behind him. The sight of him standing there, naked and erect, makes Merlin crazy, and he begins fisting himself in earnest. Arthur lets out a sort of strangled groan, then drops to his knees at the side of the bed, reaching up and dragging Merlin towards him on a tide of twisted blankets.

Arthur takes Merlin's shaft in his hand, circling the head with his tongue then licking along the slit before taking the full length into his mouth. Merlin feels himself becoming boneless and weak. Arthur sucks hard then draws away, his tongue running along the bottom of his shaft, before deep-throating him again.

Merlin's hips thrust up of their own accord and he is fucking Arthur's mouth, his breath coming in gasps. In a wild attempt to unravel Merlin completely, Arthur licks one long, dexterous finger and circles Merlin's hole teasingly before he very slowly enters, hitting the spot he'd located the night before and making Merlin shudder helplessly. Barely giving Merlin a chance to grow accustomed to the invasion, Arthur withdraws, leaving Merlin aching for more. Arthur obliges, returning to plunder Merlin with a second finger, then a third. Merlin is helpless to resist as he continues to thrust into Arthur's mouth and then back, grinding down onto Arthur's fingers.

An embarrassingly short time later Merlin is coming, twisting back into the bed, almost sobbing Arthur's name. 

Arthur climbs onto the bed and kisses him deeply as the aftershocks subside. A few long minutes pass before Merlin can think clearly, and then he rises, circles Arthur's wrist with his fingers and leads him into the shower. Arthur reaches for himself, obviously desperate for release, but Merlin stops him, taking both of Arthur’s wrists into his left hand. 

"No." Merlin says, smiling. Once he is sure that Arthur understands, he lets go of his hands. Locking eyes with Arthur, Merlin reaches over to grab the soap. Pouring some into his hand, he begins to wash Arthur, slowly. He runs his hands over his impossibly broad shoulders then down his muscled arms, all the way to the tips of those delicious fingers. Then he washes Arthur's back and the flat planes of his stomach and chest. He takes his time with Arthur's backside, running his hands almost lazily, teasing at Arthur's sensitive hole but not entering him, not now. He feels Arthur twitching between them.

Arthur gasps as Merlin bends to wash his legs, his mouth grazing negligently along Arthur's shaft. Then Merlin stands again and dips Arthur's head under the full flow of water. Arthur keeps his eyes on Merlin as Merlin washes his hair, running his fingers through the lengths, pulling perhaps harder than necessary. Then Merlin tilts Arthur's head back again, rinsing out all the soap. 

Merlin feathers his fingers teasingly along Arthur's length before turning his back on Arthur and beginning to wash himself. He makes a production out of it, making sure Arthur knows just how filthy he is.

"Fuck, Emrys. Please..." Arthur's erection is almost purple when Merlin finally circles his fingers around it. 

"Like this?" Merlin asks, feigning innocence, taking Arthur’s bollocks in one hand and running his circled fingers along Arthur’s swollen length. Arthur groans, throwing his head back. Merlin teases Arthur for a few more long minutes until Arthur begins to breathe through clenched teeth, then brings him to completion with a few masterful strokes.

Arthur's whole body convulses as he comes, Merlin’s name on his lips. 

*

Arthur doesn't know who he thinks they're kidding, turning up to his father's office in such a state. Merlin can barely walk straight. Anyone looking at him would know he'd been thoroughly fucked. 

But here they are in any case. They don't speak to each other while waiting for Uther to arrive. Merlin is twitching, looking around as though expecting to be spontaneously executed at any moment. 

Arthur, for his part, is passing the time by remembering a particularly enjoyable moment from sometime during the night when he'd been sunk into Merlin to the hilt and Merlin had begged for more.

"Is it true?" Uther asks, walking in through a side door and getting straight to the point as usual.

"What?" Arthur asks, standing to meet his Father. Merlin rises too, looking like a frightened rabbit.

"Are you conducting a love affair with this boy?"

"No." Merlin says, blanching. 

"Yes." Arthur admits, smiling wickedly at Merlin who seems like he might faint. Uther looks Merlin and Arthur over carefully, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes." Merlin concedes, nodding.

"I can see that much for myself." Uther says. Merlin turns red to the tips of his ears. "Is there any reason to keep this a secret?"

"Yes." Merlin says, nodding his head furiously.

"No." Arthur says, looking his Father directly in the eyes.

"No?" Uther asks, looking back and forth between Arthur and Merlin. Merlin looks so fragile it breaks Arthur's heart. Arthur doesn't want to keep their relationship a secret, but from the look on Merlin's face, he really, really does.

"I suppose we could keep quiet for the time being." Arthur says.

"Fine. I will expect you therefore to conduct yourselves with the required level of decorum and discretion, and, when you're ready, we will release a statement." Uther looks at Merlin almost sadly, "If I were you, I would inform my family and friends before the statement is released."

Merlin sits (collapses?) onto a chair.

"Congratulations to you both. I hope you're very happy." There is a note of tenderness in Uther's voice that Arthur rarely hears. He embraces his father briefly. “Now, moving on," Uther says, turning to Merlin as his face breaks into a genuine smile, "we must discuss the knighting ceremony."

"The what?" Merlin croaks, utterly surprised.

"I'm granting you a knighthood for your heroism in saving Arthur. It's just a ceremonial title, nothing to worry about. The presentation will take place in a few weeks’ time. George will contact you with details.”

Uther turns to leave, then comes back and holds his hand out to Merlin. Merlin stands on shaking legs and puts his hand forward as well. Uther, seeming to rethink the gesture, pulls Merlin into an awkward hug, then pats him on the back firmly. 

"I really can't thank you enough, for saving my boy." Uther says in his most serious voice.

"I would do it again, Sir, without even thinking." Merlin says, earning another genuine Uther smile.

"That's good to hear." After Uther leaves, Merlin sits back in the chair, looking a little oxygen starved.

"Blimey," Arthur says, trying not to laugh, "a Knight of the Realm."

"Stop." Merlin warns.

"It's a big honour, Merlin. Are you sure you're up to the challenge?"

"Oh, Christ." Merlin holds his shaking head in his hands, his eyes closed tight.

Arthur gives in then, finally letting his laughter bubble over. "Am I going to have to call you Sir?"


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 35 - In which we get to explore the finer details of Arthur and Merlin's relationship.
> 
> Chapter Specific Tags: Fluff and fun and just a *touch* of explicit material.

**Chapter 35**

Arthur wakes in the darkness and reaches out to feel Merlin lying beside him, his presence grounding Arthur in an instant. He'd had a nightmare and it had been a terrible one. Arthur struggles to bring his breathing under control.

_Merlin had been killed. It had been the knighting ceremony and there had been an attack. Arthur had been isolated by his security team and Merlin had simply been isolated._

In the dim light Arthur checks his hands for blood, unable to forget the museum and how close he had come to losing everything, even before he knew just how much he had to lose. He takes a moment to send a text to Valiant regarding the security arrangements for the knighting ceremony, just to make quite sure his nightmare won't come to pass, then turns his attention to Merlin, sleeping peacefully beside him. At Merlin’s insistence, they are both keeping up the facade of indifference in public, so Merlin has not yet moved to Arthur's room permanently, but he is spending his nights (and more often than not his days as well) in Arthur's company.

Since Arthur had issued the order for Merlin to be fired (his pulse quickens just remembering that afternoon), Gaius has, at the King's instruction, hired him on as an independent contractor. It means Merlin can remain working at the Palace, but that Arthur has no bearing on his position whatsoever. It is an elegant way to sidestep Merlin's issues.

Arthur brushes a lock of hair away from Merlin's face, admiring the shadow his cheekbone casts even in the low light. His finger traces Merlin's cheekbone and slides over the fragile shell of his ear, lingering at the base of his earlobe.

Merlin stirs but continues sleeping.

Arthur considers going for a run. It has been days since he's been able to get out for a decent run. Through the grounds only as, owing to Charlie's sudden betrayal, his father has banned Arthur from setting a single toe outside the security gates. Although he has been getting plenty of other exercise, that's one thing for certain - he and Merlin have been keeping themselves very busy.

Arthur runs his finger along Merlin's jaw, taking care not to touch too strongly. When he reaches Merlin's chin he traces his thumb as lightly as a breath over Merlin's lips.

Merlin stirs again, turning his face away from Arthur.

They have both been fairly well occupied outside their time together. Arthur is attending police enquiries and following up with the investigations into the assassination attempt. Merlin has been in conversation with Gaius and Nimueh attempting to locate the type of poison which was used and it’s origin. To Arthur's knowledge neither his nor Merlin's pursuits are yielding significant results. Though, to be fair they aren't really discussing it with each other, their mouths being rather better occupied when they find time to spend together.

Arthur's index finger runs along Merlin's neck, gracing the apex of his adam's apple and then following the tendons and seeking out the flutter of his resting pulse.

They had managed to find a moment (while catching their breath) to talk about the magic. Merlin apologised for not telling him and explained that Gaius told him to keep his powers secret. Arthur explained that his look of terror at the museum had been more due to surprise than anything else, that and, of course, the heavily bleeding gunshot wound. Arthur admitted that if he were a wizard he would probably want to hide his powers, too. The world being, as it was, an unstable place, and the general population inclined to change their minds about these sorts of things.

Growing reckless in the light of Merlin's refusal to waken, Arthur lets his fingers map the surface of Merlin's body more boldly. He traces the pattern of freckles on Merlin’s chest as though it’s a connect the dots. He caresses an exposed shoulder and dips his fingers along the slight indent between Merlin's arm muscles. Rounding the curve of his elbow Arthur contours a thin forearm before drawing along each of Merlin's long fingers.

Arthur looks over to see Merlin's eyes bright in the darkness.

“Bad dream?” Merlin whispers, lifting himself onto his elbows.

“Not anymore.” Arthur replies, leaning in for a kiss. Merlin's chin lifts as his lips meet Arthur’s. At first the kiss is gentle, innocuous, then Arthur shifts above Merlin, pressing him back into the pillows and teasing at Merlin's bottom lip with his tongue. Merlin allows the breach, caressing Arthur's tongue with his own, lifting his chin again to deepen the kiss and twining his hand into Arthur's sleep ruffled hair, pulling him closer.

Arthur lets out a soft groan, bringing his hand to Merlin's exposed neck and retracing the line he had drawn earlier before continuing down Merlin's chest, along his ribcage and to the hollow plane of his stomach. Merlin's hands dance along Arthur's shoulders and along his back, Arthur curving his body into the touch.

Merlin pushes up off the bed and turns, forcing Arthur under him and straddling his hips. He breaks apart from Arthur’s mouth long enough to throw his head back, exhaling with a desperate sound, running his hands along Arthur's chest, and grinding down on Arthur's arousal. The shadows cling to him and he is magnificently beautiful. Then he is kissing Arthur fiercely, clearly enjoying the position of dominance.

“It's incredible to me that I'm allowed to do that.” Merlin admits, shifting his focus to Arthur's chin and scraping his teeth along Arthur's jaw. “It's incredible waking up with you.”

Arthur is nearly undone by these words, an incoherent response tumbling from his lips. He keeps his eyes on Merlin as he lowers his mouth to Arthur's chest and lavishes Arthur's skin with those sinful lips. Arthur sucks in air when Merlin's teeth graze his nipple, Merlin's hand working slowly across Arthur's abdomen and his fingers brushing the skin below his navel.

In a huff of expelled air which tells Merlin that Arthur knows how he likes to tease, Arthur rolls Merlin beneath him, pinning the thinner boy down with his hands on his shoulder and hip. Merlin’s laughter lights the room, his smile blinding. Arthur grinds against him roughly, enjoying the pleasured sighs coming from his kiss-swollen mouth. Merlin scrapes his fingers along Arthur's arms and then bucks his hips, rolling Arthur against him while he reaches both hands up and pinches his own nipples. Arthur is driven nearly mad by this unconscious bid for increased pleasure.

“You're testing my patience, Emrys,” he growls, voice low, “with your hands on yourself like you can't help it.”

Adjusting his position on the bed, Arthur locks eyes with Merlin and inserts his middle finger into his own mouth, withdrawing it moments later, slick with saliva. Merlin whimpers as Arthur teases his entrance with the tip of that finger before sliding it inside him gently. Merlin is almost opened enough already and Arthur follows his first finger with a second then a third in quick succession, watching Merlin arch off the bed with need. Arthur cannot deny him now, and he withdraws his fingers. Merlin barely has time to say “Arthur, please.” before Arthur is pressing his swollen head against him and thrusting deeply in.

Merlin reaches his hands down, between them, but Arthur draws them away and keeps them locked above Merlin's head as he continues thrusting deeply, rhythmically. Merlin whimpers his name desperately but Arthur does not relent, Merlin likes the tease, and Arthur will not disappoint.

Arthur watches as Merlin arches back, shoulders rising from the bed, he watches Merlin’s thin frame snaking beneath him, watches his hip bones jut as Merlin sucks in a long breath, watches a bead of precum slide the length of his arousal, all the while hearing the satisfying sound of skin hitting skin as he sinks himself into Merlin again and again.

*

“Buggering, bastarding, fuck.” Will exclaims, in Merlin's opinion rather louder than necessary, as he stands in the doorway to Merlin’s room watching Merlin throw clothes into his leather bag. “You're actually fucking fucking him, aren't you, you bastard.”

“Say it louder, Will, I'm not sure the papers heard you.” Merlin says, trying to find some clean pants in the mess that is his bedroom.

“Fuck off, mate, you're the one shagging the future king.”

 _I really, really am_. Thinks Merlin, unable to hide the grin which spreads over his face like a sunrise.

“Although, technically, he's the one shagging me.” Merlin says, almost to himself, contemplating.

“First, as much as I love you, that's too much information.” Will replies, throwing himself down onto Merlin's bed, “Second, you should change that, mate. He's definitely a bottom.”

*

"The restaurant's a secret, Merlin. That's why I chose it." Arthur says derisively, pulling out Merlin's chair for him, then sitting himself down. They have managed to find time to have lunch together. In public, because left to their own devices they would shag all afternoon and forget to eat. Again.

Merlin has an uneasy feeling. They are alone in the darkest corner of the restaurant, but they’re out _together_ which is precisely what everyone who knows about their relationship has told them _not to do_. He knows the media are clamoring to get a picture of Arthur with his rumoured beau.

Which is why Merlin is not at all surprised that the paparazzi arrive before the menus.

"Not so secret after all." Merlin shouts to Arthur as they both hide behind Arthur's red hoodie while running out the back door of the restaurant.

"There's no need to get cocky." Arthur shouts back, pushing Merlin ahead of him into the waiting car.

*

“I can't believe they're going to give you a knighthood!” Freya says, awe in her voice.

“They couldn't exactly do anything less after he saved Arthur the second time.” Tristan says, shaking his head and lifting his pint.

“You do seem to have an uncanny knack of being in the right place at the right time, Merls.” Issy says.

“What _were_ you doing at the National Gallery in the middle of the night?” Tristan asks. Merlin looks at him, hating to lie, then he catches Will's eye and knows he cannot possibly tell the truth.

“Arthur wanted to go and Gaius asked me to go with him. Something to do with my saving him the first time.” Merlin knocks back the last of his drink, shrugging.

“So you're like his unofficial bodyguard now, or what? You should be getting hazard pay for that, mate.”

Merlin considers his early morning spent tangling and untangling Arthur's bedsheets and thinks he's getting rewarded just fine.

Will, probably catching the red hint on Merlin's ears, stands, collecting empty glasses. “Whose round is it? Tristan?”

“I got the last one you tight-ass Scottish prick.” Tristan says, only half joking. Will dodges Tristan’s teasing shoulder nudge and heads to the bar.

“Now, what I really want to know, Merlin, is how long you've known about our Gwen and her Lancelot?” Freya says, as she and Issy turn on Merlin.

Tristan escapes the table, following Will to the bar, and Merlin looks longingly after them before submitting to this rather uncomfortable line of questioning.

*

On an afternoon when Gaius is in a meeting with both the current and the future King, Merlin finds himself accepting an invitation to tea with The M’s. He's knows it's more likely an invitation to an interrogation, but he obliges.

Gwen answers the door and flings herself unceremoniously into Merlin’s arms, earning a judgemental look from George who chooses that exact moment to walk down the corridor. Merlin, who hadn't known she would be there, relaxes instantly.

With Gwen in attendance this tea is a lot more enjoyable than the last one. Merlin manages not to knock anything over or break any of Morgana’s incredibly fragile cups and saucers. He gracefully sidesteps questions about Arthur, but the look on Morgana's face clearly says, _What are your intentions regarding my baby cousin?_ Merlin attempts to return these looks with one of his own which he hopes says, _That's none of your business, actually,_ but probably comes across as more, _don't hurt me_.

When Morgause mentions the magic, Merlin apologises profusely for lying to everyone. No one cares much, but they do tease him relentlessly. Happily, Gwen gets to pull rank by mentioning that she's known for ages.

In the end Merlin receives a text from Gaius, calling him back to the office and he excuses himself with promises to meet up soon with Morgause to talk more about his powers.

Once again he leaves Morgana's room feeling like a mouse escaping from the lair of a skillful cat.

*

“I know nothing about you.” Arthur sighs. Merlin, who is scrutinising the latest Risk & Issues Log for his software, turns from his computer to look at where Arthur has collapsed rather haphazardly into a chair.

“What are you on about?” Merlin asks, greedily taking in the sight of Arthur’s long neck stretched back over the edge of the chair.

“I was at lunch today with Morgana and half a dozen of her more potent charitable contributors, and I realised that, while I know precisely how each of these musty old ladies takes their tea, should _you_ ask me for a cuppa I would be at a total loss.”

Merlin smiles indulgently at Arthur's unending ability to say in 100 words what could be said in ten.

“Very strong with half a sugar and just enough milk to change the colour,” Merlin says, “but I'd always rather have coffee.”

“That's not the _point_.” Arthur exclaims, dramatically, flailing his arms in the air. Merlin bites back a laugh. “I want to know everything about you. I want to know what movie is your favourite. I want to know which song always makes you cry even though you'd never admit it. I want to be able to order for you off any menu in the world, secure in the knowledge that I would pick exactly what you want, always.”

“Sounds boring.” Merlin says, rising from his chair and depositing himself gracefully onto Arthur's lap, his feet on the floor on either side of Arthur's legs.

“It's not _boring_ , it's intimate.” Arthur says, turning his head as Merlin begins kissing his neck.

“What happens when you know all there is to know about me? Then you'll move on to someone else and it won't matter that you know what I'd order off a menu in Mongolia.”

Merlin says all this as lighthearted as possible, trying to keep at least half of Arthur’s brain distracted with his hands and mouth in fun places. The truth is that he's terrified of Arthur growing tired of him, but he can't exactly say that. Not now. Not yet.

So instead of letting Arthur think about the question, Merlin bites his collarbone and grinds down as he slips his hands beneath Arthur's shirt, his fingers teasing.

“Unlikely.” Arthur manages, breathing heavily, “And we can't do this _here_. What if Gaius comes in?”

“He _is_ in.” Merlin whispers against Arthur's exposed jaw nodding towards Gaius’s closed inner office door. Arthur rockets from the chair with a look of terror on his face and Merlin struggles to not fall over while simultaneously laughing hysterically at Arthur's panic. “I'm kidding - he's not here, he's in Italy with Nimueh, but that reaction was priceless.”

“You are going to _pay_ for that, Emrys.” Arthur says with a growl, advancing on Merlin who is dodging behind furniture trying to get away from him, all the while still laughing.

“Promise?” Merlin smiles, letting Arthur catch him with his back against the wall. Arthur’s eyes are afire with joy and desire as he leans into Merlin and kisses him fiercely.

*

Merlin’s meeting with Gaius has run rather later than expected, and the lights in Arthur's rooms are dimmed low. Thinking perhaps that Arthur is sleeping, Merlin tries to make as little sound as possible as he readies himself for bed. In general he's terrible at being quiet, but he's helped along by the music playing softly in the background, and Arthur doesn't stir.

Merlin is about to join Arthur in bed when he's suddenly struck by the utter beauty of him, asleep and peaceful, and instead he carefully extricates his sketchpad and pencils from his bag. He sits cross legged on the floor and starts to draw. It is amazing to him that, even in this dim room Arthur seems to glow as if lit from within. Is it Merlin's feelings for Arthur that make him like that, or is that just _Arthur_?

Twenty minutes later Merlin looks up to see Arthur watching him intently. Merlin can feel his cheeks burning.

“I'm sorry if I woke you.” Merlin whispers, trying to cover his sketch. Arthur's hand snakes out from under the covers and grabs Merlin's wrist. Arthur clears his throat and lifts himself onto an elbow.

“Will you show me?”

Although Merlin is embarrassed to have been caught watching Arthur sleep, he's not embarrassed of his drawing, so he hands the sketchpad up to Arthur who turns onto his side to look at it.

A few long moments later Arthur's own cheeks are tinged with embarrassment, though Merlin can't imagine why. Without a word he lays the drawing carefully onto the floor and, in the same motion, pulls Merlin up and over him on the bed.

Merlin's need to have his hands on Arthur's bare flesh hasn't abated one bit in the weeks they've been together, and now is no exception. As Arthur kisses him deeply, their tongues teasing against each other, Merlin maps every inch of Arthur's skin. They move together gracefully  until they are both naked and lying on their sides, facing each other.

Everything this evening is slow and quiet between them, and Merlin speaks only in hushed sighs of contentment as Arthur moves his hands and his mouth over Merlin's body. Perhaps the silence makes Merlin more bold, because without even much thinking about it he finds his saliva-slicked finger pressing gently, teasingly, against Arthur’s hole.

Merlin knows this is dangerous territory. He knows, though they've never spoken about it, that Arthur hasn't ever done this. He knows that they've come precipitously close to this moment before tonight but Merlin has always stepped back. He knows Arthur is fearful.

He also knows that he is going to be slow and gentle up until the point when Arthur begs him not to be.

So Merlin hitches Arthur's leg over his own hip, kisses Arthur deeply and tenderly, then, as slowly as he can he presses his finger inside Arthur, the heat and tightness driving him to distraction as he tries to steady his breathing. Arthur stills beside him, his breath held, and then, as though making a conscious decision to remain calm, his whole body relaxes.

By the time Merlin has readied Arthur enough to push into him, Merlin himself is mad with desire, and Arthur is flush and trembling. He catches Arthur's lips and waits for Arthur's consent, delivered in the form of a half-nod and an unfinished, wrenching moan. And then he is guiding himself to Arthur's slick entrance and pushing into him.

The heat and pressure and wetness and _wanting_ are nearly enough to finish Merlin after only a few seconds, but as he stills to catch his breath Arthur moves, driving Merlin deeper still, and that motion is the begging that Merlin was waiting for so he stops being slow and gentle.

The words falling from Arthur’s mouth are unformed and incoherent, his head twisting, his back arching as Merlin continues to stroke into him. As Merlin watches Arthur come unravelled beneath him he decides he is, quite possibly, the luckiest bastard in the whole fucking world.

*

After the restaurant incident Arthur finally decides to let Merlin use his powers to disguise them in public.

"No, I can't make you invisible. What are you, five?" Merlin says, sitting himself on the edge of the coffee table opposite the chair Arthur is sitting in.

"What? Why not?" Arthur looks genuinely crestfallen and Merlin has to fight back a laugh.

"We're going to South Bank on a Saturday. It might be the middle of winter, but it's still going to be crazy busy. If you were invisible you'd spend the whole day being crashed into by strangers and camera-wielding tourists. We wouldn't be able to even move let alone walk about undetected." Merlin tugs the sleeves of his jumper back, bearing his hands and forearms.

"Oh. Right. So what _is_ the plan, then, Merlin?" Arthur asks, watching Merlin doubtfully. There is a note of derision in his voice and Merlin sighs, trying to think of how to explain it.  

"It's easy, really. I just have to make us Unremarkable." Merlin pauses, sees that Arthur does not understand, and continues with an explanation, "It means people's eyes will slide right past you like you're part of the background. They'll forget they've seen you even as they're looking at you."

"Like the Silence in Doctor Who?”

“Exactly.” Merlin laughs, warmly.

“So I'll still look like myself? Isn’t that risky?”

“Look at the pictures again, Arthur.” Merlin says, brandishing the tabloids in his general direction. Arthur looks at them.

“You’re not here.” Arthur says, eyebrows knitting together.

“Yes, I am. I was there, beside you. Look, there.” Merlin says, pointing to where photograph Arthur is gripping photograph Merlin’s arm.

“Oh, right, I see you now.” Arthur says, then raises his eyes to Merlin and then looks back at the paper. “Wait. You’ve gone. What? What is happening?”

“It’s a spell. You can only see me in that photograph if you know I'm there, if you're looking for me. Otherwise, I’m not there. That’s how being Unremarkable works.”

“How did you learn this?” Arthur asks, pouting. “Gaius never offered to do this for me…”

“I’m not sure Gaius would be able to, actually. Besides, not knowing is part of the spell.”

“But, you’ll know. You’ll be able to see me, right?”

“I can always see you, Arthur.” Merlin says, tenderly, and after that they kiss, long and languorously, for a very long time which makes them late for their afternoon, but it’s worth it.

*

“So, are you shagging him now?” Gwaine asks, smile splitting his face. Arthur kicks the ball at Gwaine rather harder than necessary, hoping to distract him from this line of questioning. He's not keeping the relationship a secret to his friends, but there's unfortunately no guarantee that they're not being overheard. They're in the grounds kicking around a football, and Arthur is distracted from the game by the aches of his muscles and the memory of how those aches were caused.

“Yes, of course. In thanks for saving me, I've made him my sexual plaything.” Arthur says, voice flat. Leon, Lance and Percy howl with laughter, but Gwaine regards Arthur curiously.

“Really?” He asks.

“No.” Arthur says loudly, but signals for his friends to come closer before whispering, with a smile on his face, “Yes.” After which Arthur kicks the ball past a shocked Gwaine who then has to chase it down. “My father is having him knighted in a few weeks.” Arthur says, “You must all come to the ceremony.”

“Knighted? Wow. Merlin must be shitting it.” Leon says, clapping Arthur on the shoulder in an affectionate way, to acknowledge the acceptance of Arthur's confession. Over the years they've all grown very fluent in talking without speaking.

“ _Sir_ Merlin.” Percy says, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Of all things.”

“If you're laughing because you think he doesn't deserve it, we're going to have words, mate.” Arthur says, and the laughter stops immediately.

“No, no, no!” Percy splutters, “No. Of course he deserves it, he saved your life. I'd give him anything he fucking wants. I just think he's hating this attention, that's all.” Having clarified his position, Percy steals the ball off Gwaine and passes it to Lance.

Gwaine approaches Arthur and leans in, close. “Well? Is he as good as he looks like he'd be?”

Arthur only rolls his eyes at Gwaine who heads off again, snickering. Leon approaches, “Will we pick teams?” He asks Arthur, who looks at him curiously. There's only five of them - how are there supposed to be teams? Leon then takes a two pound coin from his pocket and tosses it into the air. He pins the coin to the back of his hand and looks at Arthur, seemingly unable to stop himself from smiling. “OK, Arthur, heads or tails?”

Arthur tackles a laughing Leon to the ground, then goes to steal the ball from Lance who is doubled over with mirth. Arthur deserves this teasing, he's well aware. Once the story breaks the entire country will be wondering about the details of Arthur's sexual relations. _We all know he's gay, but tell us, Merlin, does our future King enjoy taking it up the ass?_

Arthur would normal be deeply offended to even imagine this line of questioning, but he's finding the positive answer to that question to be so delightful he doesn't even think he'd mind reading about it in the papers.

*

Merlin paces back and forth across Arthur's bedroom, clearly nervous, talking about the knighting ceremony.

“What is it, again?”

“Knight Commander of the Royal Arthurian Order.” Arthur says from where he lies in bed, propped up on pillows, and following Merlin’s progress around the room with his eyes.

“What does it mean, again?”

“It means you’re being recognised for distinguished personal service to the royal family.” Arthur answers, lazily.

"How, exactly, are they justifying this?"

“You _did_ save my life.”

"Yes, with MAGIC." Merlin barely whispers the last word, his eyes wide, looking around him as though expecting spies.

"Nobody cares if you're a wizard, Merlin. It's _legal_ , remember?” Arthur’s words run off Merlin leaving no trace. He sighs. “Fine! You don't need to tell people the magic part." Arthur says, not for the first time.

"What am I supposed to say when people ask me for details?" Merlin collapses on to the bed, hands over his eyes.

"Merlin, would you relax?" Arthur flips onto his stomach, trying to peel Merlin’s fingers away. "You've been lying about the magic your entire life. I'm sure you'll think of something."

Merlin makes a frustrated sound and rises from the bed to continue his pacing. Arthur watches him for a few minutes before rising himself and going to his wardrobe. "If it helps calm you down at all, I have something for you."

Arthur withdraws the garment bag from his wardrobe and offers it to Merlin, who has stopped pacing and is looking at Arthur with an adorable confused look on his face. Arthur takes Merlin into his arms, cupping his hand at the back of Merlin's neck and kissing him tenderly.

"What is this?" Merlin asks shyly when they break apart.

"It's a dress. Morgana picked it out. I wanted you to have something nice for the ceremony." Merlin doesn't laugh. Even though Arthur is completely kidding, he's sure Merlin believes him. Is it trust or gullibility that makes a Merlin such an easy target?

"Just open it." Arthur says, sitting himself on the edge of the bed feeling stupidly nervous. He'd gone through a lot of trouble to get everything exactly right. It wasn't easy choosing the right tartan for someone whose clan name has been lost by marriage or inheritance. What if Merlin doesn't like it?

Merlin opens the garment bag, his mouth falling open slightly as he lifts out the kilt, letting the fabric run over his hand, then taking a piece between his fingers almost reverently. It's almost a work of art, Arthur has to admit, the pleats are exquisite and the fabric perfectly weighted. He can't wait to see Merlin try it on.

"When did you?" Merlin looks up at Arthur, still running his fingers over the fabric, swallowing back tears. "...my mother."

Arthur relaxes. Until this moment he hadn't been sure he'd gotten it right.

"Her maiden name," Arthur explains, though judging by the look on Merlin's face he doesn't need to, "There were a few choices; ancient, hunting, modern hunting. I chose this one because[ I thought the blue would suit you](http://i.imgur.com/mHMOvfg.jpg)." Merlin is looking at the kilt, a very closed look on his face, and Arthur goes back to feeling nervous.

"If you don't like it or if you don't want to wear it, we can get you something else. We've got time."

"It's perfect, Arthur, honestly. It's exactly what I would have chosen."

"Great! Let's try it on then." Arthur rises from the bed and goes over to Merlin, taking the garment bag and starting to withdraw the shirt and the waistcoat.

*

Arthur buttons the final button on his shirt before removing his expertly pressed trousers from the garment bag and sliding on first one leg then the other. Merlin watches him from the edge of the bed, lying on his stomach, feet tangled in bedclothes but otherwise naked. Arthur keeps casting a wandering eye over Merlin while they talk quietly.

As Arthur struggles with his cufflinks Merlin rises, wrapping himself effortlessly in a sheet and padding towards Arthur almost silently. Merlin’s fingers make quick work of the cufflinks and before Arthur has a chance to object Merlin is fitting Arthur's ceremonial sash over his shoulder. Arthur’s eyes devour Merlin, memorizing every muscle shift and slide.

“Come with me.” Arthur says, earnestly, and not for the first time. Merlin, his tongue protruding between his lips in concentration, shakes his head. “Why not?”

“I don't reckon we'd be able to keep our relationship a secret if I turned up as your date to a State Function.”

“Why are you so insistent on keeping this a secret?” Arthur asks, aware of how childish he sounds. Then, unable to stop himself, he continues, “Is there...are you ashamed?”

Merlin, perhaps sensing the insecurity beneath the question, wraps his hands around Arthur's freshly shaven face, pulling gently at the short hairs behind Arthur's ears.

“No.” Merlin replies, his voice thick, “I just want this to belong to _us_ for as long as possible before it belongs to _everyone_.”

Arthur captures Merlin's hands in his own and lowers them to his lips. His whole body hurts with how much he needs Merlin, and he wants to will that feeling into Merlin so Merlin will understand how featureless his landscape would be without Merlin there to shine his light on everything. Instead, Arthur kisses him. He takes Merlin’s neck in one hand and a hip in the other, pulling Merlin in his bed sheet against him and his lips press every emotion he's feeling into the skin of Merlin’s lips.

*

On a sunny afternoon in late February Arthur lets Merlin work his magic again, and the two of them go out into London, wrapped up thickly against the cold, and take one of the open top bus tours of the city. The bus is not crowded, especially not on the upper deck where Arthur and Merlin are the only two passengers. Arthur is enthralled. He has never taken the tour before, and he uses up most of the memory on his iPhone snapping endless pictures, including one of Merlin leaning over the edge of the bus to pick a withered flower from a forgotten windowbox. The tour guide does not mention too many facts that Arthur doesn’t already know, and Arthur spends a good twenty minutes telling the guide secrets about Buckingham Palace until Merlin, growing weary, drags him away.

They alight, at Merlin’s request, opposite Islington Station, and Arthur trails behind a scampering Merlin as he bounces about looking for something to eat.

“This is a Weatherspoons, Merlin.” Arthur says, disdainfully, as they peruse menus in a crowded pub. It smells of spilt white wine, sick, and stale tobacco which is frightening since smoking has been banned in pubs for years. They eat chips and work their way through a pitcher of a sickly sweet, painfully blue alcoholic beverage, and by the end of it Arthur’s very glad Merlin has dragged him here. He feels just like every other person in the pub, for the first time in his life.

As a thank you for making him not feel so much like the future ruler of a world power, Arthur traps Merlin in one of the basement toilet stalls and sucks him off while Merlin fists his hands in Arthur’s hair and tries desperately not to make a sound. Merlin reciprocates the thank you in a distinctively filthy way which makes Arthur quite convinced that public toilet sex is the best sex in the universe.

*

Lying together in the aftermath of a particularly aerobic session, Merlin and Arthur cling to each other and attempt to bring their breathing back to normal levels. Every muscle in Merlin’s body aches in a satisfying, delicious way, and each bruise left behind by Arthur’s strong fingers feels like a kiss against his skin.

Arthur lays beside him, his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin’s arm draped over him. Arthur is holding one of Merlin’s hands in his, running his fingers over the skin as though bidden to memorise each minute detail.

“It’s the knighting ceremony tomorrow.” Arthur says, his voice retaining some of the huskiness brought on by the last hour.

“Mmm.” Merlin mumbles, pressing a kiss into Arthur’s golden hair.

“Are you nervous?” Arthur asks, turning his face towards Merlin.

“No.” Merlin says. With his free hand he traces an outline against Arthur’s upper arm.

“No?” Arthur says, kissing the delicate skin along the inside of Merlin’s wrist, then turning it over and gently grazing his teeth over the bones, bending Merlin’s hand to tauten the skin there.

“You’ll be there.” Merlin says, bringing his fingers to play lightly along Arthur’s collarbone, lingering at the divot in the centre and coming up along his neck.

“I will.” Arthur says, and there is so much emotion in those words that Merlin’s heart begins racing again. _Please_ , he thinks, _please don’t let’s have this conversation now. I’m not ready_.

Arthur remains silent as he takes the pad of each of Merlin’s fingers to his mouth in succession, running each one along his lips and then biting, gently. Merlin tangles his fingers in the hair of Arthur’s chest, seeking out first one, then the second nipple and teasing.

“I’m sad I never knew you as a child, Merlin.” Arthur says, not entirely in line with their current conversation.

“What do you mean?” Merlin says, hand freezing in its task of counting each of Arthur’s ribs.

“Well, you’ve gotten to see me grow up. You said so yourself you felt you knew me your whole life.” Arthur says, distracting Merlin from the seriousness of his words by nibbling a path down his forearm with sharp teeth.

“Aye.” Merlin says, lowering his hand to the dusting of hair below Arthur’s navel.

“It’s not really fair. I didn’t know you existed until a few months ago, that’s all. I just wish I’d known you longer.” Arthur has returned to the palm of Merlin’s hand, lavishing him with wet kisses.

“You know me now.” Merlin shrugs, Arthur’s head raising and falling with the motion of his shoulder.

“Yeah.” Arthur says, turning again to face Merlin and lacing heartfelt kisses along the delicate skin of his jaw and neck before lifting himself up on one arm and leaning down to kiss Merlin’s mouth, his hand gripping Merlin’s upper arm strongly. Merlin lets himself be devoured as Arthur’s tongue explores every corner of his mouth and Arthur towers over him possessively.

“Arthur, we need our sleep.” Merlin breathes against Arthur’s hair as Arthur lowers his head to run his tongue along Merlin’s neck.

“Mmm-hmm.” Arthur hums, the feeling reverberating through Merlin’s bones as Arthur sucks his adam’s apple into a kiss. Despite himself, Merlin’s hands are reaching at the skin of Arthur’s back, pulling him closer.

“It’s an important day.” Merlin tries again, arching his back as Arthur grazes his teeth over each of his nipples in turn, the skin sensitive and the feeling lighting a fire along his spine.

Arthur slides lower along Merlin’s body, running his teeth over Merlin’s sternum and his ribs, then dipping his tongue into Merlin’s navel before taking him, half-hard, into his mouth and playing his tongue along the underside of his shaft. Merlin loses the string of his argument and gives in, thrusting his hips towards Arthur who growls low in his throat and rolls both of Merlin’s balls in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, full disclosure: I'm a total nerd. I love tartans and the history behind tartan. So I thought about what I would like to see my Merlin in here and designed my own. It has no bearing whatsoever on the story as a whole, but I think it's fun. Anyway, here's the link again, if you missed it. [ Merlin's Tartan.](http://i.imgur.com/mHMOvfg.jpg)


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 36 - In which Merlin gets knighted and Arthur learns yet another one of Merlin's secrets.
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

**Chapter 36**

Merlin is so nervous he can't speak, he can barely breathe. Beside him Gwen grips his hand very hard. She has agreed to accompany him to the knighting ceremony, as Arthur is part of the ceremony and, in any case, Merlin can't exactly turn up holding _his_ hand, can he? 

“You're going to be fine. Remember to breathe. I'll be there the whole time. There's nothing to be nervous about.”

“There's so many people out there Gwen.”

“You don't have to talk to them.” 

“Mr Emrys.” George says, as usual eyeing his and Gwen's linked hands with distaste. “Yours is the last award of the ceremony. Before you are a surgeon, a three-star general, a pilot and an actress.” George’s tone of voice makes it clear that he believes the other awards are much more justified than Merlin’s. Maybe Merlin should have paid more attention to George’s lectures... “Prince Arthur has requested that he confer your rites himself. It is his first investiture, so you will not react in any way should he falter during the ceremony. Do you understand this?”

In that instant all of Merlin's nerves evaporate, and his heart feels light enough to rise out of his chest. Arthur's first knighthood! He wants to find Arthur, wherever he is, and kiss him until they both run out of oxygen.

*

“Why are you so nervous?” Lance asks, helping Arthur adjust his ceremonial jacket. “We've practiced these words a billion times, mate, you'll be fine.”

“I don't want to mess it up. It's important. It's _Merlin_.” 

“You'll be fine, Arth.” Morgana says, smiling her killer smile. “Sure, the entire country will be waiting for you to cock up, but that's no reason to be nervous.” 

Arthur smiles at her, her words actually calming him. He feels suddenly very grateful to have Morgana and Lancelot here with him, even though he would rather have Merlin here, too. But, to be fair, Arthur would rather have Merlin with him all the damn time, if he’s honest. Arthur breaks away from his cousin’s fussing when he sees Valiant enter the room.

“Is everything arranged?” Arthur asks, his voice a whisper.

“Yes, sire. They're all here.” Valiant says, in that reassuring manner he has that makes Arthur glad he'd promoted him to head of his protection command.

“All incognito?”

“ _Undercover_ , sir, and, yes.” Valiant nods. “Don't worry, your instructions are quite sufficient.”

“Good. Thank you.”

Valiant nods, heading back into the Ballroom where the ceremony will take place. Arthur returns to his group of friends, the feeling of nervousness suddenly returning. 

*

The atmosphere is much more relaxed than Merlin thought it would be. He and the other recipients are queueing calmly as each of their names are announced. The guests who are in attendance sit in neat rows facing the red carpeted dais where the ceremony takes place. There are discreet cameras and even more discreet security guards everywhere.

The surgeon goes first, his conversation with the King quite brief. The General and the pilot are pretty chatty, and the actress takes her time, smiling at Uther with all she has. Uther returns her smile politely, not quite obviously attempting to rush her along. 

“Merlin Emrys; Knight Commander of the Royal Arthurian Order.” The Lord Chamberlain calls his name and Merlin steps forward in measured paces as he's been shown. Uther shakes his hand and then takes a step back, allowing Arthur to come forward into his place. A hushed whisper races through the watching crowd who, apparently, weren’t expecting this.

Merlin bends to one knee and tries not to smile like a complete idiot. Arthur speaks about a dozen words very clearly, but Merlin barely hears him. The investiture takes mere seconds, Merlin’s shoulders hardly registering the light touch of the ceremonial sword which, Arthur had explained to him, had once belonged to his Great-Grandfather King Arthur I. After the dubbing Merlin stands and leans forward slightly to allow Arthur to drape the medal around his neck. 

“Congratulations, Sir Emrys.” Arthur says, just loud enough for anyone standing within twelve inches to hear, “This is a great honor, I hope you understand.”

“Yes, your Highness.” Merlin replies, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face.

“I have been told you have a keen interest in art, is that correct?”

“Aye, it is, your Highness.” 

“Would you allow me to show you the portraits in the Blue Room following the ceremony.”

“I would be honoured, sir.”

After that Arthur nods at Merlin who knows that his time is up, but Merlin doesn't miss the glint in Arthur's eyes which hints that, if Merlin were to accompany him to the Blue Room he would most likely learn fuck all about portraits.

*

“Now, Sir Emrys, you're much younger than the people to whom this honour is normally conveyed. Could you tell us for which achievement you are being recognised?” The stuffy looking elderly relative of the army general enquires. 

Merlin, with Gwen at his side, smiles nervously down at the tiny, white-haired man. “I saved Prince Arthur's life.”

A general gasp of astonishment inches its way around the group to whom Merlin is speaking. “Well, that _is_ impressive.” The old man says with an indulgent smile. “You must tell us how that happened!”

“What I'd like to know is what you did to those gunmen. From what I heard they’re still unconscious...” A thin, unassuming, red-haired woman says, stepping between Merlin and the gentleman on his right. Merlin’s heart stops for one long, long beat and then races forward as though making up for lost time. Why here, of all places? Merlin tries to formulate a coherent response, but words fail him.

“Wouldn't we all like to know that.” Arthur says, appearing out of nowhere with Lancelot at his side. “Excuse me gentlemen, ladies. I require a private word with Sir Emrys, if you please.” Arthur smiles his Future King smile and everyone in their group acquiesces, even the red-haired woman. Lancelot steps in to Merlin's place, linking his arm with Guinevere who smiles at him like he's the only person in the entire world. Merlin feels a sense of incredible relief as he turns to Arthur, wondering whether someone in Arthur’s security contingent should be warned about the red-haired woman. A second later, after catching the mischievous half-smile Arthur is aiming at him, all thoughts of the red-haired woman fly completely out of Merlin’s mind.

Merlin follows Arthur calmly through the murmuring crowd, smiling at people he doesn't know and nodding at those he does. At one point he meets the King's gaze, Uther's eyes practically screaming the word DECORUM!

Together he and Arthur exit the room through a set of impressive double doors and then cross a corridor to another equally impressive set of doors, which they walk through.

Then instant the doors shut, Merlin pushes Arthur back against them, locking their lips together frantically. He almost can't stop himself, Arthur looks so _kingly_ in his official dress. Arthur's hands go to Merlin's hips, clutching at the waist of his kilt and massaging under the edge of his waistcoat with his thumbs. 

“Christ, Merlin, it was all I could do not to do this in the ballroom. With all those people watching us, and you kneeling there before me. All I could think about was this mouth.” Arthur manages, arching his neck towards Merlin's lips and wringing slutty, breathless sounds from deep within Merlin, who scrabbles at the back of Arthur's head, pulling him closer.

Arthur exhales a frustrated moan of longing, trying to reach Merlin's skin beneath his many layers. “You're too _clothed_ , Emrys.”

Merlin pushes his leg between Arthur’s, grinding him back against the door. His left hand grabs Arthur's right and he begins to intertwine their fingers in a filthy, suggestive way, running his fingers the length of Arthur's and back towards his palm while taking Arthur's bottom lip between his teeth and tugging, hard.

“I was your first investiture.” Merlin whispers against Arthur's lips, eliciting a breathless sigh full of promise, and kissing Arthur so thoroughly there's a long few minutes without talking, their breathing growing desperate.

Arthur pulls away, his hands coming to Merlin's face and resting gently, breaking Merlin's concentration and lighting a fire somewhere deep within him. “You're my first a lot of things, Merlin.” Arthur's blue eyes smolder, his eyelids lowered, a flush of embarrassment tinging his cheeks. This kiss is tender, painful in its intensity, Arthur’s hands sinking into Merlin’s hair, Merlin's palms against the door behind Arthur, pressing against him until every inch of their bodies are touching from head to foot.

Merlin is beginning to seriously consider getting them both as naked as possible immediately, even if they are in the Blue Room, when a sudden commotion outside the room grabs their attention and they break apart. There are heavy, running footsteps, and the distance-muffled screams of confusion and fear.

“Father.” Arthur says, his face blanching, as he gropes behind him for the door handle.

Just as he wrenches the door open a tall man with cropped hair pushes his way into the room and shuts the door behind him.

“Valiant. What's happening?” Arthur asks the man. 

“The King is secure. You must come with me.”

*

Merlin sits on his own in the same room where he and Gwen had met Uther following the car accident. He's waiting, but not entirely sure for whom; Gaius had ordered him here, and he had obeyed. Following the busyness of the afternoon, Merlin feels rather deflated here in this silent room and stands to walk the length, just for something to do. He wishes Arthur were here with him, though if he's completely honest with himself, he wishes Arthur were with him at all times.

The attempted attackers had been apprehended by the Royal Protection Command, and are now in police custody. Everyone who had been a guest at the Palace, as well as every member of staff, had to now be interviewed by Scotland Yard. It was going to be a lengthy and tedious process. Merlin, thankfully, has already spoken to an investigator, and that should be his part done. He had made sure to mention the red-haired woman. On Arthur’s insistence he had been completely honest about what he and Arthur had been doing in the Blue Room, but they had the officer’s promise that discretion would be used at all times and not one member of the media would ever find out.

Merlin runs his hands through his hair roughly. Everything is so fucked up. This made the second attack this year. What were they getting at? Would they keep going until they were successful? More worryingly, when would Arthur's father go completely outer limits and force Arthur into a nuclear bomb-proof underground bunker?

Although, as long as Merlin was allowed to come along, a secret bunker didn't seem like that bad of an idea, actually.

Thinking he can’t really do any damage to whatever conversation he and Uther are about to have, Merlin divests himself of his jacket and folds it carefully over a chair. As much as he loves the gift Arthur has given him, full kilt outfits weren't meant to be worn indoors for so many hours, and he's roasting.

On his fourteenth lap of the room, Gaius, Nimueh and Uther enter, all of them looking stern, and Merlin freezes beside the fireplace, feeling suddenly ill at ease.

“It seems, Mr Emrys, that you have been keeping secrets from us.” Uther says, remaining standing and facing Merlin with a fierce expression. 

“Secrets?” Merlin says, thinking _which one_? 

“You’re The Dragon Lord, Merlin.” Gaius says, wearily, with incredible sadness in his voice. Merlin wants to deny it, but he knows there's no use. Gaius knows. Maybe Gaius has always known, hence his desire for secrecy. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…” Merlin starts, then swallows and tries to make himself smaller, somehow, “I wasn’t sure…” 

“Lies.” Nimueh says with venom. Merlin glares at her. What even is she doing here? 

“I think it’s time for you to talk, Merlin, and if you speak one word of a lie to me, rest assured the punishment will be swift and comprehensive, regardless of any attachment you might have with my son.”

Gaius raises his eyebrow at this, but Merlin looks back to the King and squares his shoulders. If he's going to do this, he's going to do it on his own terms.

“I _am_ The Dragon Lord.” Merlin says, simply. Nimueh scoffs, not in a disbelieving way but in a disdainful way which portrays raw jealousy. “I didn't know they existed until I came to London, but all of the research that I've done so far points to the fact that I am one. It.”

“Prove it.” Nimueh says with a negligent shrug.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, your Majesty.” Gaius says to Uther, obviously remembering their disastrous “test” in the park so many months ago. Merlin ignores him, instead opting to levitate every single object, and person, in the room for a few moments and then making it rain.

“Shit.” Nimueh says, white faced, as she regains her balance.

“I did warn you.” Gaius says, resignedly, grabbing the back of a chair for support.

“Do you have the mark, though?” Uther asks, his fingers resting pensively on his bottom lip. Neither the upending of his office nor the brief interior rain shower have phased him in the least. He’s entirely focused, like a dog on the scent, and it makes him incredibly intimidating. 

Not taking a second to wonder how Uther knows about the birthmark, Merlin nods. 

“Let's see it, then.” Nimueh demands, taking a step closer to Merlin, hands held out as though to undress him. He takes a step back from her, eyes burning. When she retreats Merlin, with all the dignity he can muster, unbuttons his waistcoat and shirt, lifting them aside to show the birthmark. There may or may not be a few dark, kissed-in bruises, but no one mentions these, though Gaius's ears turn red. 

“Well, now we know.” Uther says. “After all of our endless searching, he's here, at the Palace. Gaius, why didn't you tell me?”

“If I knew I would have.” Gaius says, though the look he gives Merlin suggests otherwise. Merlin is suddenly certain that Gaius has known about this longer than Merlin has. Maybe he knew because he knew Merlin’s father? Merlin makes a note to ask him, but he certainly can’t do that here. 

Nimueh looks like she might protest everything that has just happened, but Uther holds up his hands and she quiets.

“We haven't released any information to the media, but the museum shooting and the attempted attack at the Palace today were not aimed at Arthur nor any other member of the Royal Family. They were aimed at you. It seems as though someone has guessed who you are and is trying to assassinate you. I'm sorry we didn't know earlier, we might have been able to protect you.”

“That means that I've put Arthur's life in danger!” Merlin gasps, feeling the edges of his world sharpen. If his presence in Arthur’s life is putting Arthur in danger he must leave and leave immediately. Merlin glances towards where his jacket is folded over the back of the chair and wonders how quickly he can be out of London and away from Arthur.

A second later the idea of that crashes into Merlin and he almost falls to the floor in despair. How can he leave Arthur? Arthur is everything, _everything_ , to him. 

But how can he stay if Arthur's life is in danger?

“And you've saved him.” Uther says, capturing Merlin’s wandering attention, and looking very Kingly indeed. “Of course you saved him. You're The Dragon Lord.” Uther says, and inexplicably his face splits into a warm smile. “This is excellent. Wonderful. You’re already. I mean, you’ve already. Well, this is excellent.”

Nimueh, Gaius and Merlin all regard the King with curious looks, wondering if he’s momentarily lost his mind.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but why is this a good thing?” Gaius asks, obviously perplexed.

“Because he and Arthur are already in love.” Uther says, coming to where Merlin is standing and clapping him on the shoulder, taking Merlin’s hand into his and shaking it heartily.

“They’re what?” Nimueh says, again with that tinge of jealousy.

“They’re in love.” Uther says, turning to face them as though displaying Merlin to an interested crowd. Merlin shrugs out of Uther’s grip.

“Well, now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say…” Merlin tries to speak, but he falters under the concentrated gaze of every eye in the room. “I mean, _I_ might… _we_ might be… _involved_ , but…” 

Uther just smiles at him. Gaius and Nimueh continue watching him with disbelief and Merlin looks back at them all as calmly as he can while he tries to decide if he's strong enough to leave Arthur if it means saving Arthur’s life.

*

Arthur paces his rooms, restless. He wants to go to his Father’s chambers and be with Merlin, but he's been asked by security to remain in his rooms where they can keep the closest eye on him. Considering the chaos of the afternoon, he agrees.

He is midway through changing out of his ceremonial attire when he answers a call from his Father.

“You’re following the instructions of the Royal Protection Command, then?”

Trust Uther to annoy Arthur before he’s even said hello. “Yes, Father.”

“Good. I have many things to do but I wanted to ask you a very important question.” Uther doesn’t pause long enough for Arthur to make a response. “Did you know that Mr Emrys is a wizard? As was his father before him.”

“No.” Arthur says, his voice loud, intense and comprehensive. “No. You will not do this with Merlin, Father.”

“I speak only the truth. Gaius and Nimueh agree. Our search is finally over.”

“No.” Arthur says, the word feeling more final than even he can understand, and before his Father says another word, Arthur ends the call.

*

After the conversation with his Father, Arthur waits for Merlin to return from his meeting. He paces back and forth though his chambers, alternating between feeling angrier than he’s ever been in his life, feeling desperately, desperately sad, and feeling utterly hopeless with longing. 

There are tears of rage, tears of bitterness and frustration and, for a long time, there are tears of heartbreak when he pictures Merlin’s face as he’d looked in the Blue Room, but after a while Arthur distills all of those feelings into a single emotion, so that when Merlin finally arrives, Arthur is ready for him.

* 

For a few brief, insane moments, Merlin considers packing his things and leaving before he’s even seen Arthur. What if there’s another attempt on his life and Arthur becomes collateral damage? Merlin feels sick just thinking about it. Of course it all makes sense in hindsight. On the night of the car accident someone must have seen him perform magic and known, or guessed, and since then they’ve been plotting and attempting to kill him. All the research he’s done should have prepared him, but it doesn’t. How could it?

None of the research had ever said that his presence in Arthur’s life would save Arthur, only that it might save him, Merlin. How can he make that sacrifice? How can he even consider it? If his presence really is putting Arthur’s life at risk, is it worth his _feelings_ to continue their attachment?

No. 

But at the same time, Merlin is not ready to have this conversation. It feels like he and Arthur have barely been together at all and now Merlin is talking about leaving him. How can he do that? How can he voluntarily walk away from Arthur?

Only knowing that, once the threat is eliminated, they will be together again and always. That is the only way Merlin can walk away. Eliminate the threat. Ensure Arthur’s safety. Then, return. 

In the end Merlin decides that nothing in the world is more important than Arthur’s safety, regardless of how much it will break Merlin. Regardless of the legends stating that Merlin can only be safe while united with Arthur. Regardless of anything at all, Arthur is the most important thing in Merlin's life and Merlin will do anything to save him. 

He will go to Arthur. He will tell Arthur that he loves him, will always love him - him and no other - but that Arthur must be safe above all else, and then he will leave. 

*

The distilled emotion crackles through Arthur like static electricity. A Dragon Lord. THE Dragon Lord. Merlin really should have told him. As Arthur paces his study he tries to imagine any acceptable reason why Merlin might have kept this secret from him, but nothing comes to mind. It is completely different from Merlin keeping his magic a secret before, because they weren’t _involved_ before. But now, now that they’ve shared so much? Arthur can’t imagine having anything in his life that he wouldn’t tell Merlin. 

Arthur looks up when he hears the door open. Merlin walks into the room, unsmiling, with his jacket folded over a crooked arm, his hair disheveled, and still wearing his medal around his neck. The knighting ceremony feels a million hours ago. Arthur wants to go to Merlin, wants to kiss him, wants to take off every item of his clothing in a slow, methodical way before making love to him in a slow, methodical way, but all of this Arthur feels like a screen on top of the anger roiling within him.

“They told me you’re The Dragon Lord.” Arthur says. Merlin’s eyes narrow as though he can tell from Arthur’s tone that something is wrong.

“Apparently.” Merlin says, treading carefully. “I’m sorry I’ve not told you, but I wasn’t certain until…”

“Until a heavily armed group of mercenaries broke into Buckingham Palace to try to murder you?”

“Well, aye.” Merlin still hasn’t moved from his position by the door, and as Arthur watches him a look flutters across his eyes like paper in the wind, but it is gone before Arthur can decipher it. There are long moments of silence between them and a million times Arthur tries to change his mind, but he can’t he can’t he can’t. 

He can’t stop himself from wondering, and he knows that whatever else happens between them, now he’ll always have to wonder.

*

Merlin knows immediately that something is wrong - something is wrong with Arthur. Suddenly, having entered Arthur’s chambers with purpose, Merlin is left adrift and directionless, and, for the first time, he considers that perhaps leaving Arthur now means leaving Arthur forever. There’s an uncertain look on Arthur’s face, hard for Merlin to identify. Fear, maybe? But fear of what?

Arthur resumes his pacing and Merlin follows him with his eyes, remaining absolutely still. “It doesn’t change anything, Arthur.” Merlin says, his voice sure.

“Don’t.” Arthur says, almost shouts. “You have no idea what you just said to me.”

“Why does my being The Dragon Lord have anything to do with us?” Merlin asks, letting a little bit of his confusion show through the anger in his voice. Arthur stops his pacing, now facing Merlin over the desk between them. Even though Merlin has no idea what is going on he has to stop himself from going to Arthur and trying to soothe him, trying to kiss the pain away from his face. 

*

“What if I didn’t have a choice?” Arthur asks, his voice preternaturally quiet. 

“A choice?” Merlin sounds confused, still standing exactly where he’s been since he came in the room. Still looking confused and hurt and unsure. Arthur can barely look at him. 

“What if I didn’t have a choice?” Arthur repeats, his voice raised to a shout, pounding his fists on his desk and sending papers scattering across the floor. “You know about the legends. All your research. You _know_ , don’t pretend you don’t.”

“If the Dragon Lord unites with the King…” Merlin supplies, easily, as though he’s read enough of the legends to get that part correct, at least. 

“ _What if I didn’t have a choice_? I’ve been in love with you from the moment I met you, Merlin. That day in the grounds when you asked me where I bought my coffee. I’ve been in love with you since then.”

Merlin’s face softens and Arthur’s heart breaks. Arthur has never told Merlin that he’s in love with him, not with words, and Merlin tries to speak, taking a step into the room, but Arthur holds up his hands, unable to bear the idea of Merlin saying those words back to him now.

“What if that’s not me?” Arthur says, his voice breaking.

“I don’t…” Merlin’s eyebrows are drawn together again.

“I've spent my whole life doing what I've been told to do. You have no idea.”

“I have no idea? _I_ have no idea?” Merlin’s voice doesn’t rise in volume, but the tone of it implies that Merlin is angry, and Arthur is pleased - he wants, no, he _needs_ Merlin to fight back. “This is my destiny too. I’m The Dragon Lord, Arthur. You have no idea what it's like to have this much power and never be able to use it.”

“You want to talk to me about predestination? I'm the future king for fuck's sake.”

“It's not the same thing, Arthur.” Merlin says, slowly, shaking his head almost sadly.

“Explain to me why you think it's different?”

“I didn't know.” Merlin says, his volume raised but voice still controlled, “I never knew! I wasn't raised to take on a destiny like this. I was raised to fade into the background. Don't levitate the chair, Merlin. Don't heal your scraped knees, Merlin. Don't bring the dog back to life, Merlin. Don't use your magic to defend yourself, Merlin. Don't ever let anyone find out, Merlin. Don't let anyone find out about your magic which is as much a part of who you are as the colour of your hair but for god's sake don't let anyone fucking find out, Merlin!”

Finally Merlin’s anger is apparent, not only in his raised voice, but in the sharp wind which has whipped up inside Arthur’s chambers. Arthur tries not to let himself be frightened by Merlin’s magic, but he has seen what Merlin is capable of. He’s seen the square mile of death left behind when Merlin had been healing himself. He considers calling security, but that would bring an end to their conversation and Arthur can’t have that - they’ve come too far to stop now. 

*

“What if we didn’t have a choice?” Arthur says, his voice almost a plea now. “I can’t stand it, Merlin. I can’t stand the idea that I don’t have a say in this. In this of all things.” Arthur walks around the desk and comes to Merlin, his fingers touching Merlin’s face as gently as possible. Merlin closes his eyes, turning into the touch, “I love you. I'm in love with you, of course I am Merlin, but what if that's nothing to do with me either?”

Merlin is so sad that he can’t speak, he can barely breathe. He can feel the snow falling around them, but he is unable to stop it falling. They could be in Ealdor at Christmas. Arthur’s thumb brushes a tear from Merlin’s cheek.

Merlin had thought he would tell Arthur he loved him but he needed to keep Arthur safe and could they spend some time apart until Merlin figured out how. He didn’t think Arthur was going to break up with him, he didn’t think Arthur would ever break up with him. He thought Arthur felt the same as him, that they would be together until the end of time. He can’t understand where Arthur is coming from.

“Merlin, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I can’t be with you. Not until I figure out what’s going on, how I really feel.”

“And how much time do you think you'll need to figure it out, exactly?” Merlin asks, his voice thick and heavy, knowing that he’ll wait as long as Arthur needs him to. Arthur brushes away another tear.

“I don’t know.” The words are a whisper.

Merlin takes a step back from Arthur, whose hands are left hanging in the air in front of him. There is a look of fear on Arthur’s face and suddenly Merlin understands everything. _Everything_. If Arthur has read the legends, he knows the danger of associating with The Dragon Lord, knows his life is in danger as long as he is near Merlin. And he is afraid.

Suddenly the sadness within Merlin crystalises into a completely different emotion, one with rather more sharp edges.

*

“You don’t know.” Merlin repeats, and the sudden coldness in his voice is utterly terrifying. Arthur takes a step back from him, out of fear. “This is my life, too, Arthur, doesn’t that mean anything to you?” A sudden peal of thunder crackles through the Palace, making the windows rattle in their frames. Arthur looks around him, following the echo through the room. Merlin has advanced a step closer, his eyes bright. 

“I think you need to leave, now, Merlin.” Arthur says, trying to imbue his words with authority and not show how frightened he is.

“Leave?” Merlin says, the single syllable dripping with acid so intense that Arthur flinches. “If you want me to leave you better make it a goddamned fucking Royal Command because that's the only way I'm walking away from this.”

Well, Arthur had wanted a fight, he just hadn't expected the soul crushing misery Merlin's words would elicit within him. But he can’t. He can’t go on with Merlin wondering forever if he’s only in love with him because of destiny. He can’t.

Not daring to take his eyes off Merlin, Arthur backs to his desk and lifts the telephone handset. When he speaks his voice is clouded and heavy. “George, it’s Arthur. Please arrange for someone to remove Mr Emrys and his belongings from the building and grounds with due haste. Revoke his privileges and his security clearance, effective immediately.”

The disturbance in the room stills and the quiet is unnatural after the tempest of Merlin’s anger. The sound of the handset settling in the cradle is deafening. By the look on Merlin's face, he never really believed Arthur would do it. Arthur can see Merlin curling in on himself as though trying to disappear and he has to grab the edge of the desk to physically stop himself from taking Merlin into his arms.

“You need to leave.” Arthur mutters, unable to say anything else. His heart is breaking into a million pieces but he can do nothing to stop himself. All his life he’s been told what to do and where to go and who to be friends with. His father has been searching for The Dragon Lord his entire life because of these legends from centuries before Arthur was even born. And now it turns out the man he thought he'd chosen for himself was chosen for him. It’s just one step too far.

Merlin nods his head once, in a sickeningly final way, as though he’s been expecting this since the day they met, and then he walks to the desk, swinging his kilt jacket on and pulling his staff ID badge out of his pocket. “Have someone send me my things. You keep this - I don't need it anymore and, besides, it’s not a very good picture.” Merlin says, throwing the ID badge onto Arthur’s desk.

Arthur looks down at the grainy black and white picture of Merlin on the discarded ID badge, and when he looks up Merlin is standing at the door to the room. “I would have been with you forever, Arthur. Either here beside you or away from you, which ever kept you safe, I would have done it, but I would have always been _with_ you.” Merlin says, clearly. Then he nods again, the gesture a full stop, and walks out the door. 

“What if I didn’t have a choice?” Arthur asks the empty room, letting himself fall to the floor and closing in upon himself protectively.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 37 - In which Arthur and Merlin attempt to carry on.
> 
> No chapter specific tags. Sometimes they speak Scottish, if you need help figuring out what they're saying, it's at the end.

**Chapter 37**  

After Merlin moves to Glasgow it rains for weeks. A relentless, cold drizzle that soaks the city through and brings all of the shadows to the forefront. The citizens barely notice; one rainy Scottish day being much like any other. 

Merlin hadn't spoken to anyone that last night in London, not even to Will, who had a rude awakening the following morning when Palace staff arrived to pack up all of Merlin's belongings. 

Will, of course, has followed Merlin to Glasgow without needing to ask why, and the two of them have rented a tenement flat in Partick, within walking distance of Merlin’s new job at The University of Glasgow. 

The identity of the attackers is of surprisingly little interest to Merlin, though he receives information from both Uther and Gaius on an almost daily basis. It doesn't matter to Merlin who is trying to kill him, he knows now that they won't ever stop - it's part and parcel of the whole Dragon Lord destiny, he learned as much during his research. Now that news has gotten out to the wider world that Merlin is the Dragon Lord, Merlin knows he won't ever be safe. 

Every now and then he thinks he’s glad that his mother isn't around to witness his complacency, and after that he, unfailingly, feels guilty for days. 

Once he turns eighteen Will gets a job in a trendy nightclub, and starts working every shift they offer him. Merlin spends a lot of time alone and slowly quiets into himself.

* 

In Britain there is a rich history of simply carrying on, and after Merlin leaves London, that is exactly what Arthur does. He smiles when he’s expected to, and every now and then he laughs. He attends events, plans parties and get-togethers, socialises and continues with all of his State duties, but it seems like colouring outside of the lines, somehow. 

The blazing row Arthur had had with his father the morning after the knighting ceremony was the worst, most spectacular fight they've ever had and Uther still can barely stand to look at Arthur. It suits Arthur just fine as he has nothing to say to his father in any case. 

His friends must know that something has happened, but Arthur admits the details to no one, quite happy to let everyone just _assume_. 

A few days after Merlin leaves Arthur puts his Master’s course on hold indefinitely so that all of his free time can be devoted to acquiring as much information as possible about Dragon Lords. It seems as though his father’s obsession has now passed on to Arthur, and he greedily absorbs every fact he can lay his hands on. He must arm himself with every detail before he can begin to reconcile his idea of the future with his apparent destiny. 

* 

Merlin lets his new job fill all of the voids in his life. He's taken a role as a coordinator assisting the team tasked with opening a new Centre for Magical Studies at the University of Glasgow. Gaius’s contacts had, of course, been invaluable, though being the Dragon Lord does open doors. Merlin is treated almost reverently by University staff, defered to even though he’s younger than most of the student population. He spends a lot of time in meetings shaking hands with people, and he is introduced to roughly the entire magical population of Scotland. There are a lot of catered meals and a lot of nights out, drinking being a mandatory pastime in Glasgow.

There are more attempts on Merlin's life, but they are made by dreadfully unskilled wizards who are no match for him. The police suggest he hire a full time bodyguard, but Merlin hasn’t the time, inclination, nor the money for anything so frivolous, so he merely promises them that he’ll keep an eye out. At least with Arthur so far away from him, Merlin needn’t worry about his safety as well. Gaius and Uther both attempt to engage Merlin to discover more about the attackers, but Merlin finds he doesn't care in the slightest. 

The second activity which consumes his time is the endless meetings with lawyers in an attempt to secure the deeds to his mother's house. Apparently the banks are slow moving and secondary offers keep appearing out of the woodwork. Merlin finds that he now cares deeply about the outcome of the sale, as his mother's house and his abiding friendship with William are all that he has left, really. 

Between these two activities his free time is spent meandering the city. He visits the quietly beautiful corners of Glasgow, and even ventures to the Kelvingrove Art Gallery & Museum once or twice, but visits only the natural history side of the institution, art galleries now having rather too many memories attached. 

Guinevere contacts him frequently at first, trying to understand why Merlin left without even saying goodbye. She begins to assume that Merlin is hiding away from whomever launched the attack at the Palace, and Merlin doesn't explain otherwise. He finds he misses her terribly, and more so when her messages come less and less frequently. 

In the middle of March Merlin is introduced to Mordred, a protégé of one of his colleagues at the University. Mordred is younger than Merlin, with masses of untidy black hair and blue, blue eyes. Mordred tries to kiss Merlin after a few drinks one Tuesday evening, but Merlin isn't able to stem an embarrassing flow of tears, and after that he tells Mordred they can only be friends.

*

On a dark March night which is cold enough to be December, Arthur discovers the thread of something in his studies which raises the hairs on his neck and makes him light all the lamps in his chambers. Surrounded by books and papers and laptop screens bearing scanned images of death, destruction and suffering, Arthur finds something he hadn't known he'd been looking for.

Immediately Arthur grabs the evidence he needs and goes to find Gaius. He needs someone else’s opinion now, and he’s not about to go speak to his father. He has his hand raised to knock on Gaius’s door when he hears Gwen’s voice from inside the room.

“I need you to tell me what it means. What is a Dragon Lord and why did Merlin leave?”

Arthur knows he shouldn’t stay and listen, but the mention of Merlin’s name is a siren song, and he stops, barely breathing, to make sure he hears everything.

“As for why Merlin left, I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you, though I doubt it had anything to do with him being the Dragon Lord. Regarding the legends, I am a bit better informed. Historically the Dragon Lord is a being of pure magic and meant to lead the magic users as a sort of king. There hasn’t been one out in the open for centuries, and I doubt there’s ever been one quite as powerful as our Merlin.”

“But why are people trying to hurt him?” Someone asks, and Arthur recognises Lancelot’s voice. He can clearly picture Lance holding Gwen’s hand, supporting her, and the idea of that makes Arthur miss Merlin so badly it’s like stomach ache.

“I imagine it’s political.” Leon supplies and suddenly Arthur wonders how many people are in Gaius’s office.

“You are correct. It is a political struggle, and there are three sides of the equation. The first being Merlin, the Dragon Lord. This is both something Merlin _is_ , and an official State title and position within the government. In the absence of an actual Dragon Lord this position has been filled by a powerful magic user who was appointed by the Crown to act as a liaison between magic users and non magic users.”

“Obviously, during the times when magic has been outlawed no one has sat in this position.” adds Morgana, and Arthur feels a flash of anger. Certainly he should be in Gaius’s office for this discussion, but clearly no one wants him there.

“The second component would be the general public, both magic and non-magic who are either unaware of the existence of a Dragon Lord or are supportive of one. These people understand the benefits of having a Dragon Lord whose general role is to promote peaceful communication. Morgause, you would most likely fall into the category.”

“I think we would all fall into this category.” Morgause says. “There’s not one of us here who doesn’t love Merlin.”

“Hear, hear!” Percy adds.

Arthur chuffs in annoyed frustration, actually stomping his foot onto the soft carpet outside Gaius’s office before panicking that someone inside the room may have heard him and freezing in place to listen more closely.  

“The third faction is the most unpredictable and therefore the most dangerous. There are groups of magic and non magic users who are set against the Dragon Lord as an entity, and throughout countless generations have made it their mission to seek out and destroy anyone who might be or become one. I will spare you the unpleasant details. In general the idea is that the magic users don’t want to have a tangible ruler and the non magic users are fearful of someone who is so powerful.”

“Jealous, more like.” Gwaine says, and the tone of his voice is very serious. “Let’s go and find them, then. We find them. We kill them, then Merlin can come back.”

“As if you’re going to be killing anyone, mate.” Lancelot says, laughing at Gwaine.

“Surely it’s safer for him to be here?” Percy asks.

“Uther loves Dragon Lords he’s spent his whole life researching them, why did he let Merlin leave, even?” Morgana asks.

“Gaius, isn’t there anything we can do to bring him back?” Gwen says, and she sounds like she’s been crying.

“I’m afraid,” Gaius says, and Arthur can hear the sadness in his voice, “You’ll have to speak to Arthur about that.”

If there was ever a moment for Arthur to explain himself, now would be it, but instead he just walks away alone down the corridor.

*

After the Mordred incident Will signs Merlin up for night classes at The Art School and warns him that if he doesn't attend Will will shave his eyebrows off in the middle of the night. Merlin agrees to turn up to the classes just to keep the seat warm, and to keep both of his eyebrows firmly in place because, as much as Will loves him, he would be true to his word. Though Merlin tries to enjoy himself, every time he puts pencil to paper all he wants to draw is Arthur, and that saps every ounce of joy from the experience.

At the end of March Will starts to leave newspapers scattered throughout their flat in an obviously haphazard way. They all feature colour photos of Arthur looking pale and haunted. Merlin throws them in the bin without reading them. If Arthur is miserable it serves him right. Merlin is not in hiding, let Arthur come find him.

Early morning on the fifth of April Merlin wakes up to flashing lights and sirens directly outside their flat. He reaches over to ensure that William is there and safe, which he is, grumbling awake in a miserable way.

Answering the insistent knock on the door, Merlin finds himself looking at Uther Pendragon. He bows his head respectfully, but before he has a chance to look up, Uther speaks.

“Please, you must come. It’s Arthur. Something is terribly wrong.”

*

Two hours later Merlin stands beside a hospital bed which looks like it’s been Arthur’s home for a few days. Next to him Uther stands very composed, but gripping the hospital bed, his knuckles white. Always the King, but a father, also.

Arthur looks terrible, hollow and wan and not at all like himself. Merlin’s heart breaks to see him again, and he actually has to swallow tears. A million images of Arthur flood his mind, Arthur smiling, laughing, kissing him, telling him to leave.

No. Merlin must not think of that. He is here to do a job, and he will do that job and then he will leave. The plane is standing by to take him back to Scotland. He will be in Glasgow before Arthur fully wakes up.

Which is how it should be. Arthur is safer here - during the latest assassination attempt in Scotland they had tried to injure William as a way to get to Merlin. Will had nearly been captured, tortured maybe, but Merlin had gotten there in time. Yes, the further Merlin is away from Arthur, the safer Arthur will be. Besides, as much as it kills Merlin to admit it, Arthur doesn't want him here. Not now. Not yet.

Merlin takes one last, long look at Arthur, letting himself test the edges of his aching heart, then he closes his eyes and lets his other senses take over. Uther had informed him on the flight down that there is a poison inside Arthur, and no one knows what it is or how to fix it. Nimueh had tried everything she could think of but had conceded Merlin’s skills were likely necessary. She wasn't wrong - Merlin can see the poison there, twining itself into Arthur’s very being, and it is strong. But healing Arthur is easy, Merlin doesn't even need to take energy from his surroundings to perform this kind of magic.

Within minutes of Merlin working, his eyes closed and his hands around Arthur's wrists, Arthur’s vital signs improve. Uther’s grip on the bed loosens and his shoulders sag for a moment as he draws in a deep, shuddering breath.

“Thank you.” Uther says, turning to Merlin, and Merlin is surprised to see that Uther's eyes are damp: a father, too, sometimes. “I have to go, there are people I need to speak to.”

“Do you have any idea who did this?” Merlin asks even though Uther had said before that they didn't. Merlin can't help but want them found - more than he wants to find the people attacking him.

“No, but we have people trying to figure that out.”

“If you do discover who is responsible, it might be useful to inform me before acting, you may need my help.”

“There hasn’t been any trouble since you left, although I know the trouble followed you to Scotland.”

“I am the Dragon Lord, your Majesty, it is to be expected.” There isn't any bravery there, only the truth.

“Stay here. Stay with Arthur.” Uther says, suddenly, and it sounds like a plea, “The legends say…”

“I think it’s time for you to give up on your legends.” Merlin interrupts, letting go of Arthur, his fingers lingering a second too long on the skin of Arthur’s wrist.

“Stay.” Uther demands, grabbing Merlin’s arm, the King again and not the father. Merlin shrugs away from Uther’s grip.

“If you need to summon me in future a phone call will suffice, Arthur told me how you tire of air travel.” Merlin turns his back on the King, “Arthur may not want my presence in his life, but I will always save him.”

“You will be safer here. We can protect you. It matters not what Arthur wants, not now.”

“It matters to me.” Merlin says, then, seeing the look on Uther’s face, he continues, “I will be back in London, just not yet.”

“Why not now?”

“Arthur doesn’t want me now. But he will, some day.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t, but I have to believe it. I have to believe that he’ll want me back. Don’t you see?”

“No. I don’t see. But Arthur has made it clear that my involvement in the matter is unwanted, so I will step back. You and I both just want him safe.”

After Uther leaves, Merlin stays behind and watches Arthur for a while, to make sure his magic has worked. He watches the movement of Arthur’s eyes beneath closed eyelids, watches the slow rise and fall of his chest as he begins to breathe easier. Before Merlin leaves he brushes Arthur’s sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead and leans in to kiss the smooth skin there, choking back the unspent sobs he’s been collecting for weeks.

*

Gwen rides with him back to the private airfield, and she spends most of the car ride crying. Merlin watches the city pass outside the rain-streaked window. He feels utterly drained. He’s been in London for less than three hours and it feels like a lifetime.

“I’m not staying, Gwen.” Merlin says, not for the first time.

“Why did you even leave? Tell me.” Gwen’s demanding voice is very convincing, but Merlin cannot speak about it.

“I live in Glasgow now. I have a job there and a flat.”

“You had all those things here, Merlin. I don’t understand. Have _I_ done something?”

“No.” Merlin says, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument. “I was asked to leave, so I left, and I won’t be coming back. Not really.” He looks over at Gwen, whose tears are flowing freely. “Uther needed my help and I came. Now I am going back. Why don’t you come visit me? We don’t really have a spare room, but Will and I can kip on the floor. Bring your Lance, he’ll love Glasgow.”

“Merlin, please. Please stay.”

Merlin looks at her, despair dripping from her every feature, and wishes he had another answer. “I can’t. I’m not welcome here any longer.”

“Says who, though?” Gwen asks, and Merlin can see an inkling of truth dawning in her eyes. “Oh, my God. Arthur. Of course. Arthur did this.”

Merlin looks away back out the window, his silence a confession.

“He can’t just order you to leave the entire city. He doesn’t rule the world, Merlin.”

“He may as well, Gwen.” says Merlin, silently thinking,  _he rules mine_.

*

Arthur wakes in the hospital room, his father sitting in the chair at his bedside. There is a smell in the room like the air after lightning, and a warm feeling like a kiss against the skin of his forehead.

“Merlin.” Arthur says, knowing he has been here, has saved him. Again and again and again.

“Yes.” Uther says, without apology, and when Arthur starts to protest he cuts him off. “Your desires count as nothing in the face of your death, Arthur, do not presume to judge my actions.”

“He’s gone?” Arthur says, his voice like dust. Merlin had been here, in this room, breathing the same air as Arthur. He'd been here, he'd saved Arthur, even though Arthur had treated him so badly, he'd come. The raw, unhealed edges of Arthur's heart scrape against him. The feeling of unworthiness that Arthur has carried with him since he’d sent Merlin away grows and grows.

“An hour ago.” Uther says, nodding. He leans towards Arthur’s bed, levelling his eyes with his only son and heir. Arthur does not look away, he barely blinks. “Why are you doing this, Arthur? You’re not sleeping. You barely eat. None of your friends have seen you in weeks. You’re miserable. I’ve never known you to be so utterly miserable.”

Arthur doesn’t argue because it’s all true. All the colours drained out of his life after Merlin left.

“Are you really so stubborn that you will allow yourself to be this miserable simply to spite me?” Uther says, his voice incredibly sad.

“That’s not why I’m doing this, father.”

“Then why?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You _chose_ my mother. Out of everyone in the world you chose her. That was your own independent decision, and you will love her forever.” Arthur says, watching the sadness creep into his father’s face as it does every time he mentions his mother. “I need to know that I have a choice in this, father. That is all.”

“You are being foolish. I didn’t choose your mother, no one can command their heart to love, Arthur. Keep that in mind." Uther pauses here as though to ensure Arthur has heard him. "Now back to the matter at hand: after all our years of searching for the Dragon Lord we finally find him. He's real. He exists. He isn't a legendary creature any more. Gaius says that _everything_ is true. He's the most powerful magic user the world has seen or will see for centuries.”

“That is your quest, Father, not mine.” Arthur interrupts, trying not to be disrespectful.

“ _For you_. I was searching for the Dragon Lord for you. To keep you safe. The legends say…”

“I know what they say.” Arthur answers, firm. He's read the documents, maybe even more thoroughly than his father has. “It changes nothing.”

“Merlin has agreed to accept the title.” Uther says, and Arthur cringes. He'd been afraid of that. If Merlin accepts the official State title of Dragon Lord he becomes a de facto member of the Monarchy. “We're having a ceremony. You will attend.”

Arthur doesn't argue. It will mean seeing Merlin again, perhaps often, as they'll likely be at many events together. But perhaps Arthur will know by then. If Arthur can figure things out before then, maybe he'll still have a chance to make it right.

Just as Uther is preparing to leave he turns to Arthur and asks, “Do you know anything about who did this or why?”

Arthur looks at his father and knows he must lie to him, the truth being something altogether larger than the conversation he wants to have.

*

When Arthur arrives back to the Palace, Gaius is waiting for him and they return to his study together, Arthur feeling like a little boy about to get scolded. Merlin’s desk is still there, all of his papers stacked everywhere, although none of the computers in the room look as though they have been turned on once since he left. Arthur feels miserable here, and perhaps Gaius notices because he smiles at Arthur rather unkindly.

“Did your father tell you that we know now what happened with Merlin?” Gaius asks.

“No.” Arthur admits.

“There is a group of people firmly set against the actions of The Dragon Lord, as I am sure you know, seeing as they have attempted to murder Merlin six times.”

“Six?” Arthur asks, shocked. He’d thought three.

“Six.” Gaius confirms, then continues. “They thought perhaps attacking you would make him vulnerable. They were wrong, of course. He saved you and now he is back in Glasgow, and better protected there than even he knows.”

“They poisoned me to get to him?” Arthur asks, knowing the answer is yes, but also that it is not the whole answer.

“Yes, and it wouldn’t be the first time.” Gaius says, solemnly.

“December.” Arthur supplies. Gaius nods.

“From what we've managed to piece together they planned on attacking Merlin over Christmas while the Palace was down to a skeleton staff, so they sent a letter saying he must remain here over the holidays. Obviously, he didn't. So then they decided if he remained in Scotland indefinitely they could more easily attack him there. But they needed time to plan, so they poisoned you against him hoping he wouldn't ever return. Obviously, he did.”

There is a moment of silence between them, Gaius deciding.

“Let me tell you a story.” Gaius finally says, and settles Arthur in the armchair opposite his desk. “Once upon a time there was a baby born with extraordinary magical powers. A being of pure magic, the like of which has never been seen before. One who will unite the world of magic and bring it under gentle rule. This child, raised in isolation and never knowing who he is nor who he is meant to become, is taught that his powers, which are as natural to him as breathing, are to be feared, mistrusted, and used only in the most extraordinary circumstances.”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably in his seat, guessing where the story is headed and not wanting to hear a word of it.

“When he is an infant his father is brutally, horribly murdered. That secret is kept from him, always. His mother, ever watchful and protective, falls victim to an unidentifiable and untreatable illness, leaving the child alone and with no excuse but to come here, to London, and embrace his unknown destiny. On his own he learns that he is The Dragon Lord. He learns what this means. He learns that he must always be hunted, that there is a larger faction of magic users against his existence than for. He learns that to use his powers means death, because someday someone will notice and, if someone notices, they will never stop hunting him.”

Gaius rises from behind the desk and sits in the second armchair, turning to face Arthur and leaning forward, his arms on his knees.

“This boy uses his powers anyway. Not for frivolous reasons, but to save the life of a prince. People notice. People talk. People hunt. People find him. Meanwhile he learns that his only chance, his one chance at leading a life where he will not be murdered and made a martyr, is to unite himself with the future king. To create with him a unified nation of magic users and non magic users alike. To rule by his side, unharmed and untouchable.”

“Then, one night, the prince sends him away. And he leaves. He leaves without pausing to explain that by leaving he is effectively signing his own death warrant. He leaves without getting a chance to make the prince see that his actions are incredibly self-serving and ignorant. He leaves knowing that every single day for the rest of his life might be the last day of his life, but still he leaves. Because the prince asked him to. And still, when the King needs him, when the future king is dying and no one else can help, the young Dragon Lord returns, knowing that, although they are not united, he must always protect the prince. He must always protect you, Arthur, even when you turn away so blindly the chance of protecting him.”

Arthur gets up to leave and Gaius lets him go. Arthur hadn’t wanted to hear any of this. He didn’t want to think about the consequences of his actions, not when his heart is so heavy to begin with.

Just as he is at the door, Gaius speaks again. “The legends say nothing of love, Arthur. Nothing. Remember that.”

*

Merlin's birthday arrives and Will buys him a cheap supermarket cake and lights a candle, but Merlin just lets it burn. At the weekend they go for drinks, and Mordred corners him again, pressing his eager lips against Merlin who still doesn't kiss back, wondering if this emptiness inside him will ever go away. He explains to Mordred that he will never love him, not like that, but Mordred claims not to mind, as long as he sticks around for now. That night Merlin cries into Will’s shoulder for hours, cooried in like a wee boy.

The last Friday in April Alisdair calls to tell him that the bank have accepted someone else's offer on his mother's house. Will collects him from the Victoria on Dumbarton Road near closing time when a terrified Mordred phones him saying that Merlin is threatening to make it rain fire, a threat they both take very seriously because it is something they have both seen him do.

In early May Merlin receives a letter addressed to _Sir Merlin Emrys, KCAO_. It sits unopened for two days before Will gets the shaving kit out and threatens Merlin with an entirely hairless body, after which he decides to open it rather than have Will attempting to shave his legs in the dead of night.

It is an invitation to a Royal Function being held in his honour at The Palace of Holyroodhouse in Edinburgh in June. Merlin had known this was coming but still he dreads it. The unveiling. When Merlin will accept the official State tile of Dragon Lord along with everything that entails.

*

Arthur watches the evening light shift along the wall of his office, casting portions of the framed picture into sharp contrast. His eyes travel Merlin’s drawing, each line a memory which calls Arthur’s name.

_No one can command their heart to love._

Behind him his desk is stacked high with his Dragon Lord books and papers, every long minute Arthur has spent researching is both dreadfully important and horribly wasted.

_The legends say nothing of love._

*

In the weeks prior to the event, Merlin calls upon the help of a friend from the Art School, as he doesn't want to arrive unprepared. Together with a posh kiltmaker hidden down an almost forgotten close in the West End, Merlin and the art student design the [new tartan](http://i.imgur.com/okCbw9Z.jpg). They incorporate Merlin's inherited tartan so that he will always have his mother with him. He then adds the colours he feels most represent his true self. The final result is something Merlin is proud to wear, a rather beautiful form of armour that will lend him courage in the face of his formidable destiny.

*

Edinburgh is colder and wetter than Arthur remembers for June. The dreich skies match his dour mood, so it seems fitting. His father has insisted that he attend the function or be sent on another diplomatic world tour, without Morgana. Terrified of being forced to dine with the world's ruling powers without Morgana to act as a buffer, Arthur agrees. He plans to hide out in a coat closet the entire time, but he doesn't tell his father this.

The thing is, Arthur hasn't stopped loving Merlin. He hasn't for one second stopped thinking about him, his laugh and the way his eyes light with the fire of a thousand suns when he smiles. He hasn't tried to forget him or to move on, he has only tried to become a better person in the hopes that one day he'll be worthy of asking, of begging Merlin to forgive him.

Does he want Merlin back? More than he wants to be alive.

Does he think he deserves Merlin's love? He never did.

So Arthur rises on the second Saturday in June and he dresses in his Pendragon Hunting tartan kilt and grey jacket, and straightens his shoulders.

It's one day. One day. He can get through this. And, if he happens to see Merlin then he'll get through that, too, somehow.

Regarding himself in the mirror he acknowledges that he looks like a poor impression of himself - rather like a paper doll in a Dress A Royal kit given to a fastidious child.

He heads to the ceremony feeling like a paper version of himself; insubstantial, translucent, and just as fragile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am a nerd, again. Here is the [new tartan](http://i.imgur.com/okCbw9Z.jpg).
> 
> Also: Cooried means snuggled. Dreich means dreary and gray and wet.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 38 - In which Arthur sees Merlin again, and Merlin sees Arthur.

**Chapter 38**

“What are you wearing, boy?”

“Gaius!” Merlin says, unashamedly embracing his mentor. “I'm so glad to see you.”

“Yes, yes, but what _are_ you wearing?”

Merlin looks down at his immaculate dark gray jacket with its square buttons, and the black shirt beneath, then checks his kilt and sporran. Everything is in order, but the way Gaius is looking at him you'd think he's showed up in pyjamas. Dirty ones.

“A kilt?” Merlin asks, Gaius’s continued disapproving look making him uncertain.

“What's this? Did you oversleep?” Gaius rubs his own unshaven chin and Merlin mirrors the action, feeling a few day's growth under his fingers. He's grown his beard in as part of his costume, to aid in shielding him when he's got everyone's eyes on him.

“Never mind. There's no time. Uther will be announcing you shortly.” Gaius straightens Merlin's collar and his tie then turns Merlin towards the dais and gives him a little push.

Standing at the sidelines now, Merlin waits for his name to be called and tries not to remember the last time he was in a room with this many royals. Uther is attempting some grandiose introduction of Merlin as The Dragon Lord, but Merlin isn't really listening. It doesn't matter the words Uther chooses, because Merlin is The Dragon Lord whether Uther introduces him or not. There's a sort of inevitably about all of this which makes it easier, somehow.

Arthur is in the front row of spectators looking like he'd rather not be there at all, wearing a kilt as tradition dictates (the [Royal Pendragon Ancient Hunting tartan](http://i.imgur.com/FgjvjpF.jpg), Merlin’s treacherous brain supplies), and trying to look anywhere but directly at Merlin. Merlin has seen pictures of Arthur in a kilt before, but the actual sight of him is dangerously close to being exactly what Merlin has desired his entire life. There's something about the Scottish-ness of it that makes Merlin _burn_. Merlin drinks in the view of him like the last rays of sun dying out after a long and wonderful day, when there's a cold breeze waiting to usher in a long and lonely night. Arthur looks like he's in need of a few good meals, but Merlin knows how his duties as Crown Prince weigh on him. His hair is shorter and he's grown a silly beard, but it accentuates the sharpness of his jawline and cheekbones, and Merlin wants nothing more than to feel the texture of it against his face.

Merlin knows it will be difficult to return to his isolated heartache after seeing Arthur, but it is worth it; he's just so beautiful. It feels like Christmas time at The Prince and Crown with Merlin being painfully in love with Arthur but unable to do a damn thing about it. Unsurprisingly,  Merlin’s anger at Arthur, which he has been cultivating like a rare flower, begins to abate as Merlin watches him, being eclipsed by the sheer volume of the love Merlin still feels.

Morgana stands beside Arthur, looking breathtaking in a violet gown, her arm linked with Morgause who looks equally breathtaking in blue. On Arthur's other side are Leon and Gwaine, both of whom Merlin is very pleased to see. Gwen, as Merlin knows, is not in attendance, Lance having swept her off to Greece for the weekend, probably as a distraction because she's still mad at Merlin.  

Merlin hears his name and walks across the dais confidently, making his Official State Debut as the Lord of all Magic. It is a mantle he never asked to bear, but he is determined to bear it well. He feels his shoulders roll slightly within his dark gray jacket before he squares them and shakes the hand of the King.

As he graciously thanks Uther and then the crowd he catches Arthur’s eye and feels his breath catch for a second. Arthur is regarding him with half-closed eyes, as though he's dying of thirst and Merlin just happens to be a great, big glass of water.

The last time Arthur had looked at him like that they had spent the next hour and a half extremely naked.

It is difficult for Merlin to continue with his speech and his explanation of the plans for the new Centre, but he gets a wind in his sails when he begins to explain the virtual library and his software, and it is easy enough after that, even if he is remembering what it was like to feel Arthur inside of him.

*

Merlin looks good. He looks very, incredibly good. The tartan he's wearing is unfamiliar to Arthur, and he makes a note to ask someone to identify it. It suits Merlin, though, all blue green, gray and black. Part of Arthur is hurt that Merlin has chosen not to wear the kilt Arthur had gifted him, but he supposed Merlin has disposed of it, or burned it, perhaps.

He can't help his eyes sliding towards Merlin, and he is grateful for this excuse to simply stare. Merlin's hair is shorter, but still untidy, tumbling over his forehead in waves. He is slightly unshaven, perhaps in a bid to make himself appear older. With a jolt Arthur realises he's missed Merlin’s eighteenth birthday. Once upon a time he'd had grand plans for that particular day, and he can't believe he forgot about it.

Merlin is clearly excited about the topic he's discussing, and he spends a good ten minutes expounding on the various benefits of having a Centre for Magical Studies in Scotland and the practical benefits of his new library and the software he has developed. Arthur loves to hear him speak, soaking up the sound of his voice, and by the time Merlin nods to the enthralled crowd, Arthur is ready to beg. He's ready to crawl towards Merlin on hands and knees, proclaim his unworthiness and beg, simply _beg_ for him to consider forgiving Arthur.

After the introduction of Merlin as The Dragon Lord, the rest of the afternoon is one of the least formal Royal functions Arthur has ever been to. He knows his father has organised that for Merlin's comfort and he feels very grateful to him. There is no reception where Merlin will be forced to shake anyone's hand, just a room full of distinguished guests and discreet waiters with trays of drinks, although Arthur feels just as wrong-footed now as he had in his chambers earlier. He feels like his skin doesn't fit. The room is extremely Scottish, something that Arthur hadn't necessarily noticed previously, not before Merlin arrived on the scene and became _Scotland_ to him. It makes him uncomfortable in a desperate, wanting way.

However, Arthur makes his way genially through the crowd, smiling when required and even making a joke or two. He is introduced to various Scottish political and academic persons and is only slightly distracted by counting down the seconds until the event is over.

“And this is Mordred,” one of Arthur's party says, indicating the youngest member of the group they've just joined “A student at The University of Glasgow who hopes to benefit from the new Centre for Magical Studies that Sir Emrys is proposing to have completed by next autumn.” Arthur hears, only really beginning to pay attention after he hears Merlin's name. The boy in question is indeed young, but attractive and with unsettling blue eyes that seem to see straight through Arthur.

“Tell me, Mordred, have you been studying long?” Leon steps in on Arthur's behalf to ask the requisite three or four questions of each guest.

“It's only my first year, but my whole family have had magic as far back as anyone can trace, so the Arts are not new to me.” Mordred replies with uncanny confidence. He keeps looking at Arthur when he thinks no one is watching, and it's not the usual _“sneaking a glance at the Prince”_ gaze that Arthur is used to; there's something accusatory in his eyes, like they're children on a playground and Arthur has deliberately broken Mordred’s toy.

“And what do you think of the plans Sir Emrys is proposing?” Gwaine enquires.

“I believe they are suitable in the short term, however, if the government and the Crown,” Mordred nods deferentially at Arthur, still with that odd look in his eyes, “wish to show true support of magical studies and magic users, I believe they should be willing to make this a Royal institution.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.” Arthur says, feeling Gwaine and Leon tense at the edge in his voice.

“Merlin and I are very close.” Mordred replies, smiling a secret smile and looking very suddenly like the prize winner in a high stakes competition. “He's discussed his plans for the institution and I have to say I support him wholeheartedly.”

“You're _very close_?” Arthur asks, feeling the world shift on it's axis. If it weren't for Gwaine's hand at his back Arthur fears he may have stumbled. “How close exactly?” They must be lovers, that is the only explanation for Mordred’s superior demeanour.

Mordred simply levels a smile at him. Arthur takes a step forward as though to engage Mordred in a physical altercation, but beside him he hears Gwaine making his excuses and tugging his arm until he is forced to follow him in a retreat from his intended target. Behind them Leon is apologising, but Mordred is laughing a low laugh which carries across the room.

On their way to a rear exit and an exterior door, Gwaine obviously deciding Arthur needs some fresh air, Arthur spots William a few feet away talking to a small group of people. He breaks away from his companion and heads for Will, at once feeling the most vindictive and the most broken he has ever felt.

He has no right to ask Merlin for the truth, but perhaps William will take pity on him.

*

Merlin is so busy talking Dragon Lord business and trying to secure funding for the institution that he barely realises he's in the same room with Arthur. This is a blessing, although it doesn't mean he doesn't look up, hopeful, every time he catches a glint of  golden hair, or turn, expectant, towards every posh English voice in the room.

He simultaneously wants and does not want to speak to Arthur. What would he say to him? He's considered opening with a pick up line, just to gauge Arthur’s reaction, when he remembers how devastating the past few months have been and decides to try to avoid Arthur entirely.

This decision makes him feel pulled tighter than a violin string, and he expends most of his energy making sure, making quite sure, that he's not going to perform accidental magic. Obviously, his secret being out, everyone in the room knows he's a wizard now, but there are such things as good manners, and springing phenomenal magic on a room full of unaware people could be considered cruel.

So Merlin counts down to the end of the evening, half of his attention focused on his conversations, half on not accidentally making the decorative greenery spontaneously regrow its roots.

*

“Will, please. Please, just tell me they aren't sleeping together.” Arthur says, interrupting Will and whomever he's speaking to, not caring one iota who might overhear him.

“And what the fuck has that got to do with you, pal?” Will demands, going from zero to hacked off in one second flat.

“I know I fucked up, Will. I know I made a mistake and I know I don't deserve him and I don't deserve your friendship, either, but please. Please, just tell me they aren't sleeping together.”

Perhaps it is the sheer desperation in Arthur's voice, or the look of unbearable grief on his face, but something about Arthur makes Will soften.

“No they aren't. He's in love with you, he always has been and probably always will be.”

Arthur feels faint with relief. He grabs Will's shoulder for support, and Will looks at him for a very long moment.

“Go and talk to him, then.” Will says, shaking his head at Arthur.

“What?”

“Go and talk to Merlin. There's obviously things you need to say.”

Arthur looks around the room, suddenly decided. He does have things he needs to say to Merlin, and he needs to say them now.

*

“Excuse me gentlemen, ladies. I require a word with Sir Emrys, if you please.” Gwaine says, appearing out of nowhere and stepping between Merlin and the lady on his left then reaching across Merlin to take his right arm in hand. Merlin makes his apologies and follows Gwaine, feeling confused but happy to see him.

“You’re not going to try to shag me in the bogs again are you, mate?” Merlin says, a smile on his face. Gwaine doesn’t laugh. He looks too serious for the situation and for a second Merlin panics, fearing that something is wrong with Arthur.

“Are you actually fucking kidding me?” Gwaine says, turning to face Merlin in a less crowded area of the room. His voice is a whisper, but he is clearly very angry. “You _reject_ him. You reject Arthur and then you turn up here with a fucking date?”

Merlin looks at Gwaine, feeling like he’s missed a step going down stairs. “What are you…?”

“No. Look, I don’t care if you are some all powerful dragon thing, that’s bang out of order, mate.” Gwaine says, his voice now raised, drawing looks from the people standing closest to them.

“I rejected him?” Merlin says, finally comprehending what Gwaine has said.

“Oh, caught on now, have you?” Gwaine spits at him, having lowered his voice again. “I didn't think you had it in you to be such a prat.”

“I didn't reject him.” Merlin says, with measured calm. Obviously Arthur has not been entirely truthful with his friends.

“But he's in love with you.” Gwaine says, his voice even lower.

Quite fortuitously, Will joins their group at that moment, trailing Arthur behind him by a jacket sleeve. Merlin looks straight into Arthur's eyes, noticing how pained he looks, but plowing on through in any case.

“Yes, I know he loved me.” Merlin says, unapologetically, “He told me. Just about in the same sentence where he had George revoke my security clearance and told me to leave.”

“But…?” Gwaine says, clearly confused, looking between Arthur and Merlin. Arthur at least has the dignity to look abashed.

“Why don't you ask him what happened that night. Ask him to explain how he told me he loved me then told me to leave.”

Everyone's eyes are on Arthur, who is looking at Merlin unblinkingly. “I did.” Arthur admits in a whisper, finally looking away from Merlin towards Gwaine. “I did that. I sent him away.”

“Why?” Gwaine asks, his eyebrows knotted together.

“Because I was afraid.” Arthur says, as though admitting this is shameful.

“Because he was afraid.” Merlin repeats, voice leaden with tumultuous emotion.

“Too many close calls?” Will asks, disdainfully. “Afraid one day they might miss The Dragon Lord and hit you?”

“No. What? No. I don't care about that.” Arthur says, adamantly.

“What then?” Merlin asks, and it is suddenly just the two of them in the conversation, in the room, in the whole goddamned universe, for all Merlin notices. It is only him and Arthur, their blue eyes meeting, half a breath frozen between them.

“Don't you see? I thought it must be out of my control and I hated that thought.” Arthur takes a step closer to Merlin, reaches out a hand towards him, “Of everything in my life that I have no control over, no choice in, no _say_ in… I was afraid of the idea that who I love was decided for me.” Arthur reaches down and takes one of Merlin's hands in both of his, staring at their fingers linked together. “From the first time I met you I wanted you, Merlin. I loved you so completely, so immediately, and so devastatingly, when I found out it might just be destiny and not really real at all I hated it. I hated it.”

Nothing in the world moves except Arthur as he pulls their linked hands slowly to his mouth and kisses Merlin’s knuckles.

“What I hate more, though, is not seeing you, not being able to talk to you, not knowing how you are or where you are or who you're with or if you're safe. Not being able to hold you or kiss you.” Arthur punctuates his sentence with another knuckle kiss, and Merlin's breath hitches in his chest.

Then Arthur begins to speak very fast, eyes downcast, as though repeating something he has memorised. “I made a mistake. I'm sorry. All I can say is that I'm sorry. I thought it mattered. I thought it mattered, but it doesn't. All that matters is you, is _us_ , if you'll forgive me. The legends... they don't say anything about love, I was being stupid. I know that I don't deserve you, that you've probably moved on, and I don't blame you. I sent you away. I realise now that was wrong. You’re safer with me, I should have considered that and I’m sorry. I have no right to ask you this, but I wonder if you would consider forgiving me?”

When Arthur finishes it seems as though the whole world is holding its breath. Merlin thinks, fast and hard. What will become of them if it doesn't work out this time? He thinks he's fared well in the breakup, all things considered, but what if it happens again? This is the second time Arthur had ordered him away, and each time hurt more than the previous. Exponentially more. Could he do it again?

Yes. And he would, in an instant. It might be self-destructive, but that's how Merlin feels. Like every moment spent with Arthur makes all the time spent without him worth it. It's how he's always felt, even when they were barely friends.

Merlin is ready to say "yes", his lips already forming the words, but then he remembers the danger. His feelings for Arthur don't change the fact that Arthur would be in grave danger every second that he spends with Merlin. It doesn't change Merlin's unwillingness to bring Arthur back into the firing line. Until Merlin has managed to lessen the threat, Arthur is safest away from Merlin.

Merlin has too many uncertainties in his life to add Arthur into it again. Yet.

Merlin looks at Arthur, at his open, trusting face, at the lines of worry embedding themselves at the corners of his eyes, at the fear and uncertainty behind his trembling lips. He knows what he must do, he hates it, but he must. He must tell Arthur "No".

“I'm glad that you're ready, but I'm not.” Merlin says, and Arthur’s entire body freezes, his fingers going rigid in Merlin's hand. Merlin touches the side of Arthur's face very, very gently.

“I love you.” Arthur’s voice sounds small, like a child's. “What do you want me to do to…”

Merlin's fingers brush over Arthur's lips, “Stop. I don't need a gesture. I just need more time. I have commitments in Glasgow. I have to be The Dragon Lord, whatever that means. I have to figure out who I am now that I know who I am. I'm sorry if that doesn't make sense, but it's the best I can do.”

“I love you.” Arthur repeats.

“I know.”

“You're safer with me.” Arthur says, adamantly, as though that settles it.

“And you're safer _without_ me.”

Merlin looks at Arthur until he sees the truth breaking in Arthur's eyes like waves against rocks. Arthur is safer away from Merlin. Everybody is. Merlin knows this and now Arthur knows it, too.

Merlin runs his hands along Arthur's face, trying to soothe away the hurt his words have caused, and then he kisses Arthur as tenderly as he is able, their lips swearing a thousand promises to each other that neither of them can keep.

When Merlin pulls away he feels the vacuum of space between them as vast as the galaxy. Arthur clings to Merlin as though clinging could save them.

“You are the other side of my coin, Arthur Pendragon. The other side of myself, and I love you, always, but it isn't our time.” Merlin's voice is barely a whisper.

“Please.” Arthur begs, but Merlin continues to step away from him, pressing Arthur's hands to his own chest and letting go. The noise and bustle of the crowded room presses against their conversation again, and Will and Gwaine look confused as though they've missed something. Merlin's desire to have his and Arthur's conversation be a private one must have made his magic kick in and shielded them from the crowd. Sometimes his magic comes in very handy.

“I love you, Arthur, and that's going to have to be enough, for now. I'm sorry.”

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Gwaine says, but Merlin ignores him, grabbing Will’s hand and leading him away.

Each footstep he takes away from Arthur is a cry that says “turn”, “stay”, “go back”, but Merlin keeps going. He needs to leave fast, before his resolve crumbles.

*

"No, I'm sorry, but it's bullshit." Leon says, storming away down the corridor. Gwaine grabs his arm and pulls him back, Arthur shaking his head at both of them.

"It's actually quite sensible, Leon." Gwaine says, sounding older than he's ever sounded in his life, and proving himself to be even more loyal to Arthur than Arthur could have guessed.

"But they're in love with each other - they should be together." Leon says, adamantly, but no longer looking as though he's going to kidnap Merlin against his will.

"It isn't safe." Arthur says, though his brain is already forming a plan to make it safe enough. They just need to neutralise the threat. According to the legends them being together is enough to neutralise the threat, but obviously Merlin isn't taking any chances. Arthur's brain kicks into overdrive as he tries to think of something,  _anything_ , he can do to bring Merlin back to him.

"I need a drink." Leon says, totally out of character, and Gwaine and Arthur follow him to the bar. 

The rest of the evening is spent with Gwaine and Leon, both of them drinking more than they should in an attempt to cheer Arthur up, for as much as he’s said he agrees with Merlin’s decision, he’s completely devastated to have watched Merlin walk away, and it shows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nerd Alert: the [Royal Pendragon Ancient Hunting tartan](http://i.imgur.com/FgjvjpF.jpg).


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 39 - In which Arthur and Merlin try to find a new normal and Arthur's research into Dragon Lords leads to a startling discovery.
> 
> No chapter specific tags.

**Chapter 39**

Merlin is pretending to sleep on the train home. They are the only three in the first class carriage, and Will and Mordred are talking to each other in the slightly forced way they always speak when Merlin isn't there, like two people who would not normally converse suddenly forced to be polite to each other. They are currently holding a hushed discussion about the previous evening, both of them acting as though Merlin might wake at any moment. Mordred is sneakily attempting to find out the nature of the conversation Merlin had had with Arthur, and Will is trying, just as subversively, to change the subject.

As his head rolls gently with the sway of the train carriage, Merlin lets the sound of the wheels and rails sink through his weary body. He is incredibly tired, but not in the way someone might be if they had missed out on sleep. He is incredibly tired like someone who has been faced with their true love, the one person they need to make themselves complete in this world, and has walked away, leaving the waking half of themselves behind. His body aches with the absence of Arthur's touch, the ghost of Arthur’s kiss on his skin.

Once, when he was little, Merlin had swum to the very depths of the loch beside their house, pushing down into the black water even as his lungs pained to feel the crush of air being forced out into bubbles. He had kept going, deeper, deeper, waiting for the innateness of his magic to step in and allow an unimpeded progress. His entire body had screamed, muscles on fire, pleading him to turn back even as he pressed onwards into the frigid water. In the end, of course, his magic had taken control, probably around the time he began to lose consciousness, and he had risen, unharmed, to the surface.

Will had been furious when Merlin finally resurfaced, shouting at him even as he had embraced him. When asked what he thought he had been doing, Merlin explained that he had to know how unconscious the magic was, how much or little control he had, really, in the end. It had been an awakening and not a welcome one.

Afterwards, Merlin's body had been sore for days and days, the muscles of his chest grasping at the memory of a breath held indefinitely. This ache now, on the train from Edinburgh Waverley, this ache is the same. A hollowed-out, breathless feeling like almost dying but being unable to die.

Merlin’s phone beeps with a text alert, and he uses this as an excuse to exit his own wretched thoughts and fakes coming to wakefulness, grumbling sleepily.

The message is from an unknown number, and Merlin has to read the message twice, feeling his eyebrows knit, rubbing phantom sleep dust out of his eyes.

[text from unknown number to Merlin: Woke up in bed with someone. Not you? Rolled over. Someone else. Also not you? Very confused.]

It _must_ be from Arthur. It _must_ be. Either Arthur or a hilariously wrong number. But Merlin had deleted Arthur's contact information weeks ago to save himself from drunk texting his ex, so he can't be sure...

“Will, have you still got Arthur's number?” Merlin asks, straightening in his seat. Across from him Will digs his phone out of his jeans pocket and thumbs through a screen or two. “Does it end in 10233?”

Mordred, sitting beside Merlin, turns to look at him with a scorchingly accusing look on his face. “You're, what, suddenly getting text messages from your ex now?”

“He knows about Arthur and me?” Merlin says, looking at Will but inclining his head towards Mordred.

“Aye, well, it's not as though you've been stealthy.”

“Fair enough. Is that his number?”

“Aye, it is.” Will says, the corner of his mouth twisting into a hastily disguised smile.

Merlin laughs, feeling more like himself than he has in weeks. Arthur has text him. The last few months may not have ever happened. Although they can't be together right now, this text message, this joke of a text message from Arthur, instills within Merlin the hope that someday, _someday_ , they might be together again. Maybe soon, if Merlin can manage to trace the group of people intent on ending his life...

“Why are you getting text messages from your ex boyfriend?” Mordred asks, an icy chill to his voice sharp as a knife. Merlin ignores him, preferring instead to text Arthur back.

[text from Merlin to Arthur: If you are unhappy with the professional services we have provided, there are proper channels through which you might lodge a complaint.]

Merlin hits send, knowing this message will elicit a response from Arthur faster than any other. The suggestion of any impropriety is handled very seriously in the Pendragon household.

“What does it say?” Will asks, leaning over to see Merlin’s phone screen.

“I think we'd all like to know that.” Mordred says, still with venom in his voice. Merlin ignores him again, handing his phone to Will, still smiling.

“Christ, Merls, you'll have the Royal Protection Command on you if you're not careful.” Will says, giggling and shaking his head.

“What?” Merlin asks, laughing, “He started it.”

“You will tell me what is going on.” Mordred demands, the air around them suddenly stained with the scent of smoke. Merlin responds immediately, snaking out a thread of energy and sapping Mordred of whatever magical power he had been summoning.

“Seriously?” Will asks, cocking his head at Mordred, laughing and looking much happier than he has any reason to be. “You're trying magic against _him_? Not the brightest idea you've had, pal.”

“What?” Merlin asks in a whisper, incredulous, “What was that?”

“I think you should be the one explaining. Getting text messages from ex boyfriends?” Mordred’s blue eyes flash.

“Arthur isn't an _ex_ boyfriend. He's not an _ex_ anything and he's not a _boyfriend_ in any sense of the word. He's Merlin's destiny.” Will says, beaming at Merlin with great pride and only the barest hint of jealousy.

“I told you, Mordred. I told you I could never love you. I thought you understood.” To his surprise there is no pity in Merlin's voice. He had, after all, explained the situation.

“But we've _kissed_ ,” Mordred says, imparting the seriousness of the very young onto the action.

“Technically _you_ kissed  _him_ …” Will says, enjoying this far too much.

“I have always been with Arthur. I have always been his, and I always will be. It doesn't matter where I am or what I do or who I'm with, I will always be his.”

“How can you not know any of these things?” Will asks, still laughing, watching Mordred stare at Merlin, who looks away and down at his phone which has just beeped another message alert.

As the train pulls into Croy station Merlin feels the cold air when Mordred exits the train, but he's busy reading Arthur's message and kicking Will under the table in admonishment for his unkind laughter.

“Not sorry he's gone, mate.” Will says, watching Mordred rush across the station platform as the train pulls away. Merlin barely hears him, his entire attention focused on the message he's received.

[text from Arthur to Merlin: Emrys, are you trying to get me grounded? It was Gwaine and Leon I woke up next to, Christ.]  
[text from Arthur to Merlin: And it's your fault they drank too much last night!]

Merlin settles back against the window of the train and spends the rest of the journey texting Arthur, Will smiling stupidly at him from across the table and occasionally shaking his head.

Merlin’s body might still ache with the absence of Arthur, but now his heart feels much less bruised.

*

Around the time Merlin's train is pulling into Glasgow Queen Street Station and he and Arthur’s texts have descended from humorous to suggestive to properly explicit, Morgana saunters into Arthur's room trailing her dressing gown and carrying what looks like every newspaper printed in the United Kingdom and Europe.

“They think,” she shouts, waking Leon and Gwaine to a tangle of hungover limbs beside him. “They _think_ that the Crown Prince might be having an affair with The Dragon Lord.” Morgana flops onto the bed, tossing the papers to Arthur, who lifts the top one to see a blurry, mobile phone photo of he and Merlin standing too close together.

Leon clutches his head and groans. Gwaine, though probably more hungover than any of them, sits up and runs a hand through this wild curls. The fact that he's still attractive as hell in this state annoys Arthur, but his annoyance is drowned by amusement as Gwaine levels his eyes at Morgana. “May I say you are looking simply devastating this morning, Lady Morgana.”

“Not even if you triple bagged it, Gwaine.” Morgana says, somehow making it not sound cruel, sending Leon into pained peals of laughter and making Arthur chuckle, even as he reads the salacious headlines.

“My Father will be pleased, in any case.” Arthur says with a smile.

“Are you and Merlin back together, then?” Morgana says, reaching over to lay a hand on Arthur's foot where it rests beneath the covers. Arthur sweeps his arms wide as though to indicate that his present company should prove that he and Merlin are obviously not together, or Merlin would be here with him, possibly naked. “Why not?”

“It's complicated.” Arthur says, hoping to convey the truth behind those words. Morgana just watches him with her too-knowing eyes.

“OK.” She says, nodding, accepting the situation. Arthur smiles at her very warmly.

“What I want to know is who’s in charge at the damn papers?” Gwaine says, paging through the pile. “I mean, you spend two minutes talking to Merlin yesterday and it's on the fucking front page. Wake up in bed with two men? Nothing.”

“Jealous, Gwaine?” Morgana asks, rising to leave and tightening the tie at her waist.

“Well, yeah,” Gwaine says, causing the room to explode into laughter, “but only a little!”

*

Late morning on the day after the Dragon Lord ceremony, Arthur goes for a run. He hasn’t been out running with any regularity since the day before Merlin’s knighting ceremony, and he’s badly out of shape. He heads out of the Palace grounds towards the ruins of St. Anthony’s Chapel and around the base of Arthur’s Seat. His muscles rejoice at the movement, and he lets the damp Scottish morning soak into his soul.

He misses Merlin and for the first time since Merlin left London Arthur lets himself feel that emotion. He’s spent so long suppressing his true feelings that it is strangely empowering for Arthur to accept them. Thoughts of Merlin are still painful, but there’s hope now, and there hadn’t been for so long. It might be years before he and Merlin can be together, but Arthur is sure, now, that they will be, and that's something…

He understands why Merlin is staying away from him. Merlin has built a surprisingly stable life for himself in Glasgow in the short time that he’s been away, and Arthur has no right to ask him to abandon everything he’s worked for. Merlin’s insistence that Arthur is in danger with Merlin in his life grates against him because, conversely, Merlin is safer with Arthur in _his_ life. They are both trying to keep the other one safe, and in doing so they are unable to be together. All of the people in Arthur’s life who know about the situation think they’re both being ridiculous, and part of Arthur agrees.

If only Arthur could find some way to neutralise the threat. As he rounds Salisbury Crags and heads to the crest of the hill an idea begins to form, and by the time Arthur pauses at the summit to enjoy the view of Edinburgh in the fog, he’s decided. It will take some intensive research followed by a potentially dangerous move which no one in Arthur’s life will approve of, but he’s going to do it anyway. Because at the end, Merlin will be safe and he and Arthur can be together again.

* 

[text conversation between Arthur and Merlin:  
**Arthur:** You need to choose your "friends" more carefully.  
**Merlin:** I know. I saw. I'm sorry.  
**Arthur:** Did you know he was taking photos of you?  
**Merlin:** Oh, aye. I snog the guy a few times so, yeah, he's probably taking PICTURES OF ME WHILE I'M SLEEPING. Very logical.  
**Merlin:** Arthur?   
**Arthur:** You snogged him?  
**Merlin:** Technically he snogged me.  
**Merlin:** I'm not going to apologise. You broke up with me. Remember?  
**Arthur:** Right.  
**Arthur:** Yeah.  
**Arthur:** I've got to go. Damage control. Speak soon. Axx]

*

Merlin spends the next few days ducking out of sight of the paparazzi. Ever since Mordred called the papers, they’ve been going insane. As though a few dark, blurry mobile phone images of Merlin sleeping alone in his bed are enough to stop the entire of Scotland from getting anything done. He should have known something like this was going to happen, but it had been so nice to have someone close in his life who understood about the magic. Mordred had been good fun, apart from the snogging which Merlin hadn’t enjoyed. Maybe it hadn’t ended well, but there was no need for Mordred to be a dick about it.

In the end Merlin settles for making himself permanently Unremarkable when out in public. It’s a high price to pay as he can now only ever go out alone, but it’s worth it to not have yet another telephoto-lense-behind-a-tree picture of him gracing the front pages of the paper.

By day five they’ve gone off the whole Mordred affair and have begun to focus on Merlin As The Dragon Lord. This is only slightly better, as none of the articles bear any resemblance whatsoever to reality, but at least the people with massive cameras have mostly been replaced by overly eager junior reporters with steno pads.

Arthur has assured him it will die down after a little while, once the papers get their hands on some other juicy story, so Merlin buckles down and waits for some celebrity, somewhere to do something stupid. Possibly Edwin fucking Muirden, but that's just Merlin being selfish.

*

One of the other good things about being back on speaking terms with Merlin is that Arthur can talk to William again. Arthur has been harbouring some complicated plans and ideas that involve William and he’s had to back-burner them for a long time. Now, though, with less hard feelings in the air, Arthur contacts Will and gets the ball rolling.

Will is surprisingly receptive to Arthur’s ideas, but asks Arthur please to not mention anything to Merlin quite yet, fearful of raising Merlin’s hopes unnecessarily. Arthur willingly agrees, glad to have an ally in Will.

* 

 

[text conversation between Arthur and Merlin:  
**Arthur:** Saw the article in The Sun. Why didn't you tell me you were planning to take over the ENTIRE UNIVERSE?  
**Merlin:** Fuck off, Arthur.  
**Arthur:** With a mixture of magic and astonishingly good looks by the picture they included.  
**Merlin:** Fuck off, Arthur.  
**Arthur:** What? It was a god picture!  
**Merlin:** Oh, Christ. How can you stand all this? I spend half my time these days being Unremarkable which would be fine but I'm starting to miss my friends!  
**Arthur:** You get used to it.  
**Merlin:** Really?  
**Arthur:** Well, no, but you learn to live with it.  
**Merlin:** Great. Just perfect.  
**Merlin:** Can I stop being the bloody Dragon Lord now?  
**Arthur:** Sure. Then my Father can just try to set me up with someone else. I've still got Edwin's number I think...  
**Merlin:** Right. Fine. But you better be worth all this, Arthur.  
**Arthur:** Oh, I am.  
**Arthur:** You remember.  
**Merlin:** Ha ha.  
**Arthur:** You're coming to Morgana's thing in London at the weekend right?  
**Merlin:** Um...  
**Arthur:** No, you can't skip this one. Gwen is so excited about seeing you it's all I've heard from Lance. You have to come.  
**Merlin:** Fine. I'll come.  
**Merlin:** Listen, the Dean of Admissions is here so I'm away. Stay well.  
**Arthur:** Miss you. Ax  
**Merlin:** You too. Mxx]

*

“They commandeered the Cleveland Orchestra on a Saturday night in December when I told my father I fancied hearing some Christmas carols.” Arthur says.

Merlin, using his left hand to hold the mobile phone, plays absently with the hem of the old t-shirt he’d worn to bed. A few inches away, on his own side of the bed, Will snores quietly.

“Why them?” Merlin asks in a whisper.

“They’re good.” Arthur says, and Merlin can hear his shrug. “But it was terrifying. There really is nothing so frightening as a jet-lagged strings section tuning up to play Good King Wenceslas.”

Merlin laughs, letting the sound of Arthur’s voice soak into him like a tonic. His right hand inches lower and he finds himself playing with the tie on his pyjama bottoms. Beside him Will still sleeps soundly.

“They were flown in after their Friday night performance and were back in Cleveland for the Sunday matinée. Saturday's shows were cancelled, of course. I think they blamed 'inclement weather'.”

“And your father set this up?” Merlin asks, switching to hold the phone with his right hand before it gets any ideas of its own. He turns onto his side so his left hand is flattened beneath him. It wouldn’t do, not with Will sleeping there. It just wouldn’t do at all.

“After that I was a lot less open about my desires.” Arthur continues with his story, “Otherwise The Rolling Stones may have ended up playing a gig in my bedroom. For King and Country, et cetera, et cetera.”

*

“You're coming with me to London, Will.” Merlin says, throwing some clothes into a holdall and checking to make sure his garment bag includes everything he needs. “The flight leaves in three hours.”

“I'm not coming this weekend, Merls.” Will says, packing his own bag. Merlin reaches over to take a pair of trousers out of Will’s bag. “Hey!”

“These are mine.” Merlin informs him, “And yes, you are.”

“No. I'm not.” Will says, reaching over to take the trousers back. Merlin lets him take them, thinking they might belong to Will after all.

“Then why are you packing?” Merlin smiles at Will, feeling as though he's won something.

“I'm going to Ealdor. Alisdair asked me to come up, apparently there's something uncertain about the paperwork, so he needs my help.”

“Can't you just phone him?” Merlin asks, unable to stop the hint of desperation which creeps into his voice. He can't be trusted to be on his own with Arthur.

“No. But you'll be fine. You can be around him without needing to shag him, can't you?” Will says with a trademark snide smile.

“You would think.” Merlin replies, sitting on the edge of the bed, wondering if this is, in fact, true. It’s been a few weeks since the theory was tested, and Merlin doesn’t know if his resolve will hold.

*

“Merlin!” Gwen smiles, throwing herself into his arms. Merlin wraps her close and hugs her, not wanting to let her go. She looks positively glowing in a soft lavender gown. Over her shoulder Lance nods in Merlin’s direction, too busy in his own conversation to come and join them.

“You must move to Scotland, Guinevere.” Merlin says, stepping out of the hug and holding Gwen by both her forearms. “I miss you terribly.”

“You move back to London, then. I hear you and Arthur are back on speaking terms. Though why you ever felt you should forgive him, I’ll never know.” Gwen looks at Merlin as though she hasn’t seen him in years, but also like she’s cross with him about something. After a few seconds her expression softens and she brings him into another, smaller, hug. “Although exile does suit you.”

“I haven’t been _exiled_.” Merlin says, shaking his head with a laugh. “How are things with Lance? Will it be your engagement party next?”

“Don’t change the subject on me, Merls. Why don’t you move back to London now?” Gwen says, clearly trying to keep the subject off her and Lance, but her blush reveals everything.

“I can’t come back right now. I’m too involved in the new addition up at Glasgow University.” To this, Gwen simply raises an eyebrow and Merlin, never being able to resist her, caves. “Fine. We might be on speaking terms, but it’s complicated. Hopefully I won’t be gone forever. Good enough?”

“For now, I suppose. And Lance and I are fine. Wonderful, actually. He and Gwaine have both passed their exams with honours and will be graduating in a few weeks. You should come to the graduation!” Gwen says, excitedly, as though this is the best idea anyone has ever had in the entire universe, ever.

“I would love to.” Merlin replies, feeling very glad that they happen upon Morgana and Morgause before he is asked to pin down these arrangements. He doesn’t know if he can stand yet another Occasion.

Morgana and Morgause look stunning standing next to each other and holding hands, positively glowing with happiness.

“Gwen! Merlin!” Morgana says, smiling a beautiful smile and sliding into the most polite hug Merlin has ever experienced. Morgause, grinning broadly, is much less formal in her greeting and hugs Merlin very tightly. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“So, you’re engaged!” Merlin, says, letting himself smile widely and reaching out for both of their left hands to admire the rings they’re wearing. To his surprise the rings are modest, but exquisitely beautiful. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you.” Morgana says, slipping her hand back into Morgause’s. “I’m glad you’ve come because I have something very important to ask you.” Morgana leans in closely to Merlin and Merlin feels himself grow nervous. Obviously whatever she is going to ask him is going to be tedious, or she wouldn’t be acting so conspiratorial. “You must help my dear cousin with the music choices for the wedding, Merlin.” Merlin actually laughs as Morgana continues, earnestly, “Without your calming influence I fear we shall be dancing all night to insufferable love songs.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Merlin asks, still laughing. Morgana looks stricken, but Morgause soothes her with a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll do what I can.” Merlin says, finally, and, although he can sense that Arthur is not in the building, he scans the room for him in any case.

*

Arthur has every intention of attending Morgana and Morgause’s engagement party, but he finds himself unable to. He’s managed to get time with the archivist in Bruges who is helping him investigate the vague ideas and assumptions he has been tracing for months now.

The meeting is very informative, and it confirms a lot of theories that Arthur was rather hoping would be denied, which worries him, but doesn’t make him any less determined. In the end it turns out his detour to Bruges is worth the time, even if it does mean he misses seeing Merlin and, at the same time, makes his cousin very, very angry indeed. In fact, Morgana’s wrath might be the most dangerous part of this whole thing...

* 

 

[text conversation between Merlin and Arthur:  
**Merlin:** You missed the Engagement Party. AND Lance  & Gwaine's graduation. After you pestered me and pestered me to go, you missed them. Mx  
**Arthur:** Sorry. Busy.  
**Merlin:** Are you OK, Arth?  
**Arthur:** Yeah, just busy. See you soon though. Stay well. Axx  
**Merlin:** Hey. That's my line. Mxx]

*

“Hey.” Merlin says, coughing sleep out of his throat. The clock by the bed reads just gone 7am.

“Morning.” Arthur replies, sounding pleased that Merlin has picked up the phone. Merlin looks around him, but Will is gone. He’s either at work very late or he's just not come home.

“Did you need something?” Merlin asks, knowing that Arthur could have only one reason for calling him so early.

“What have you got on today?” Arthur asks, his voice impossibly low.

“Afternoon planning meeting. Big Wigs. Boring. You?” Merlin lets himself stretch out as much as he can, his feet falling over the bottom edge of the bed. The flat is perfectly cool, but stuffy, and Merlin reaches over to open the window beside him, letting in an early autumn morning breeze.

“Research.” Arthur says, then clears his throat. “So, do you have time?”

“It’s seven in the morning, Arthur.” Merlin says, a smile in his voice, enjoying teasing Arthur even though he is already pulling his t-shirt over his head and running his hand over his exposed chest.

“Bad dream. Woke up missing you.” Arthur says, the tone of his voice making it clear exactly which parts of Merlin he woke up missing most.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Merlin asks, though he knows the answer.

“No. Are you alone?”

“Aye.” Merlin says, and within seconds Arthur is speaking to him, telling him in detail all of the things they could be doing if they were together, and his voice goes straight through Merlin and makes him sigh back into the bed, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs before he pulls them off.

*

Arthur checks his bag twice, but he knows he’s packed everything he will need. He checks his plans and scribbled notes again, though he knows everything he needs to know. It’s the kind of plan that makes you check things four or five times.

After that he looks quickly at Merlin’s old ID badge where it hangs over a lamp on his desk, Merlin’s too tired smile quirking out at him. He lifts the badge and tucks it into his breast pocket, and then he leaves the room, bag slung over his shoulder.

*

“Merlin?” Gaius's voice comes down the phone, sounding panicked. Merlin’s pulse shoots rapidly upwards. Something must be terribly, terribly wrong for Gaius to sound like that.

“Is it Arthur?” Merlin asks, jumping to attention and startling everyone in the late afternoon planning meeting. Gaius wouldn’t call him unless it was an absolute emergency. Merlin is already throwing his notepads into his bag and heading for the door without so much as an apology to the room full of very important people.

“Yes. I think he’s about to do something incredibly stupid and I can’t stop him.”

“Is there a plane?”

“There isn’t time. It's life or death, you must come now.” Gaius’s voice cracks, but he clears his throat.

“I’m on my way. Meet me in your office.” Merlin says, bolting through the meeting room door and down the corridor to the reception desk. As he hangs up the phone he hands his bag to the girl behind the desk and asks her to keep it safe, he’ll send Will for it later. She agrees, but only because Merlin’s panic seems to be affecting her, too.

How could there be something wrong with Arthur? They’d spoken only that morning...

Merlin thanks the receptionist, and then, not caring one jot for who might be looking or what they might think, he closes his eyes tightly and thinks only of Gaius’s office at Buckingham Palace.

When he opens his eyes Gaius, Nimueh, Morgause and Uther are all standing there, staring at him as he appears into thin air before them.

“Thank you for coming.” Uther says, striding forward and shaking Merlin’s hand as though they’re colleagues and not King and Subject.

“Tell me everything.” Merlin says, releasing Uther’s hand and turning towards Gaius to get filled in on what is going on.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 40 - In which Arthur makes a terrible, terrible mistake and Merlin tries to undo the damage. There ARE Chapter Specific Tags, but they could be considered spoilery, so I've put them in the END NOTES.

**Chapter 40**

If anyone is coming to save him they will be too late. Arthur knows this with the same amount of certainty that he knows he is dying. His left hand, splayed out unmoving beside him, is being enveloped by a pool of his own blood that is spreading slowly, but not slowly enough for it to cool before it reaches his fingers.

The wound in his chest does not _feel_ fatal; he isn't in pain, not in that sense, but he knows he is certainly dying.

He's recounts the litany of incredibly stupid things he has done that have gotten him here, all of them done for one very specific reason: Merlin.

Regret, acute and painful, washes over Arthur. How much time he's wasted on his idiocy and his stubbornness. He should have been with Merlin, always, he knows that now. And he knows that even though he will die tonight, Merlin will be his, always. Just as he shall always be Merlin’s.

If Arthur had succeeded tonight he and Merlin would have been free to be together. Through his research Arthur had discovered the underground group responsible for the attacks, a group dating back hundreds, if not thousands of years, and he had _found_ them. Thinking back, perhaps coming to speak rationally to them without bringing Valiant or Nimueh with him had been an extremely stupid idea, but he'd thought if he could _explain_ to them that Merlin wasn't a danger to anyone… In any case they hadn't been pleased to see him, and they hadn't let him even draw breath to speak - they had just shot him.

As fog creeps in towards the centre of his vision, Arthur tries to conjure an image of Merlin’s improbably beautiful face, but he fails. Hearing only the rasping of his breath catching in his chest and, somewhere, the steady drip of water falling.

Water. And suddenly Arthur's mind floods with Merlin, his slowing heart aching with a longing to see him again as he once had been - nervous and uncertain, standing beside a rooftop swimming pool beneath the stars, with the London skyline spread out behind him.

In remembering, Arthur convinces himself that Merlin is beside him, smiling, and that Merlin's voice is in his ear, powerful and pulling like undertow on a stormy day.

Before Arthur lets go and follows the fog into darkness, he tries to make his lips form the one word that could save him, that would have saved him had he lived.

Merlin.

*

Arthur has left his notes and hand-drawn maps behind amidst the stacks of research on his desk. Valiant leads Nimueh and Merlin, followed by a police squad, to the suspected building which is dark when they arrive. It looks abandoned, but Merlin knows that Arthur is here, somewhere. The sense of him is dim, like a birthday candle flame in a storm, but he's here. Merlin runs to find him, ignoring Valiant’s calls to be cautious.

Let them try to get him now, just let them try.

Arthur is still and pale when Merlin finds him, surrounded by a crimson halo of blood. Merlin kneels, unable to stop the strangled cry of anguish that tears through him.

Memories of his mother, equally pale and still, come to mind, and he knows he is too late. Even as he reaches out and takes Arthur's arm in his hand, surging a pulse of magic through his fingers, he feels the weak flame that had been Arthur extinguish completely.

But still, he tries. Just as he had with his mother. He tries to bring Arthur back, and this time he doesn't stop. Even as the ambulance arrives and transports Arthur to the hospital, Merlin tries to bring him back, holding on to Arthur, hard, and never letting go.

*

“I was too late.” Merlin says, the words slurred by exhaustion and grief.

“You weren't.” Uther says, quietly. Always the father.

“I was too late.”

“No. You can't have been.” This is stated as fact, always the King, too.

“I can’t bring him back, not now, not from this.”

“Try.”

“I was too late.”

“Try."

*

Merlin pulls energy from the air around him and he pulls from the ground beneath his feet and he pulls from deeper down to the liquid core of the planet; he pulls.

Morgana, tears on her face, touches his shoulder and he pulls from her until she loses her breath and falls away into Morgause’s arms, who, even as she catches Morgana, steps in to take her place; he pulls.

Storm clouds race over the land carrying unexpected lightening from the sea and cascading sheets of rain drown the city; he pulls.

Always the father, Uther grabs Merlin’s shoulder like a vice and refuses to let go even as Merlin saps his energy to nothing; he pulls.

Birds fall out of the sky and insects cease their fevered flight, evergreen trees drop their needles to the ground, grass dries and fish float to the surface of drying ponds and men and women feel sick and faint and babies cry in listless arms; he pulls.

He cradles Arthur's hands in his own, he pictures what his life would ever be without his prince, how dark and empty and how terribly, terribly sad; he pulls.

*

“The power went out in London yesterday for almost twenty minutes. Was that you?”

“Yes.” Merlin says, his voice quiet as a breath.

“Did it work?” Will asks. Merlin imagines he can hear a train in the background of wherever Will is.

“Did what work?”

“Whatever you were doing that caused the national crisis we're facing this morning.”

Merlin looks over to where Arthur is sleeping a drug-induced, post-operative sleep. His fingers still touch Arthur, lightly, on the inside of his left wrist, feeding him a constant stream of energy, trying, still, to bring him back. “I was too late.”

“Was it Arthur?”

Merlin doesn't answer because he knows that William knows.

“I'm on my way. Be careful, please. Don't do anything stupid until I get there. Well, anything else.”

Merlin hangs up the phone and lets it fall into his lap. He wouldn't have the energy to do anything stupid even if he wanted to. Which he does, desperately. He can sense the fibers of Arthur's broken body trying to repair themselves, and he ordinarily would easily assist, but he, Merlin, is empty. He has nothing left. Nothing left to help his love. So he sits, and he gives the shadow of his energy to Arthur who needs it now so much more than he does.

*

Merlin touches the soft skin inside Arthur's wrist, seeping energy into him like warmth. Uther sits opposite Merlin, Arthur's sleeping form between them; always the father, always the King. Occasionally he and Uther look at each other, but Merlin can see the limitless pain in his own heart mirrored in Uther’s shattered eyes, and he always looks away again too quickly.

The room is full of people having a conversation Merlin can take no interest in. Not now. Not yet. Names are thrown around, accusations leveled, discussed, proven.

“It was George, in the end. He was the inside contact.” Gaius says this as he comes to Merlin and gently touches his bare neck just above his shirt collar. Merlin, feeling grateful for Gaius’s presence, and his energy, nods at him, closing his eyes for a long moment. “Driven by jealousy.”

“Jealous? Of whom?” Morgana asks, pressing herself closer into Morgause’s arms where the two of them sit occupying one chair.

“Our young Mr. Emrys.” Nimueh supplies, looking official and still foreboding standing by the exit to the room. “And of Ms Guinevere.”

Gwen turns her face into Lance’s shoulder, crying, Merlin knows, to think that she might have had a hand, however distant, in the fate that has befallen Arthur.

“He asked Gwen out years ago and she politely turned him down. After meeting Merlin George assumed that Merlin and Gwen were dating, a common misconception, it seems, and was jealous of Merlin. From then on Merlin was on his radar.” Will says, looking apologetically towards Lance and Gwen.

“George hasn't said when he started suspecting Merlin has magic, but I wouldn't be surprised if was right from the beginning. Either way, he kept his eyes quietly open until the car accident when Merlin saved Arthur’s life.” Nimueh adds.

“After he heard about the events surrounding the accident, George’s suspicions of magic were confirmed. He says he tried then to make contact with an anti-magic group, just to out Merlin's powers and make him lose his job. But he accidentally ended up making contact with the group of extremists intent only upon murdering The Dragon Lord. It was luck, in the end. Just bad luck. We're not sure why, but from the beginning they were convinced that Merlin was the one they were looking for. Then they got their hands on the CCTV footage that George coerced from the owner of the leisure centre. It clearly showed Merlin’s birthmark, and that was all the proof they needed. All of the attacks, all of them lead back to George. He was their spy, and he was everywhere.” Gaius says, his voice laced with exhaustion.

“Arthur uncovered the truth?” Lance asks, still shielding Gwen in the cage of his arms.

“In his research,” Gaius says, and Merlin knows that Gaius has feverishly read every paper Arthur left behind. “He managed to discover where they were operating from and he was planning, I think, to just talk to them.”

“Idiot.” Gwaine says, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Everyone in the room has been crying and no one is ashamed to let it show, even Will. Merlin looks at each of them individually and his heart swells with love for his Arthur, who has been so loyal and so wonderful that he has amassed around him such an honest, open group of people.

“I knew he was up to something, but I had no idea. Truly no idea at all.” Gaius says, sadly, as though explaining himself. Merlin remembers Gaius's strange behaviour in Edinburgh and wonders whether Gaius has known something was up for a while.

“We are lucky we even found him, but he left us a stack of breadcrumbs.” Valiant says, looking between Gaius and Nimueh and Uther. 

“Was it magic?” Morgause asks, sounding frightened. Surely fearing, as Merlin does, a fear response from the general public once they learn the details of what happened. Merlin looks over to where she sits petting Morgana’s hair in an unconscious gesture.

“An ordinary gun. Well aimed.” Valiant supplies.

Merlin knows that this information will soon be of utmost importance to him, as it will likely become his responsibility to trace the attackers, as Arthur had. Right at this moment, though, all Merlin can think about is the weak flutter of Arthur’s pulse that he can feel beneath his fingertips. And, though he isn't really paying attention, he hopes he's managing to absorb at least _some_ of the details of the conversation.

Merlin turns his gaze back to Arthur, catching Uther’s eye again and looking away. He feels hollowed out, like an empty shell of himself. As though his own life, or essence, or something, is connected to Arthur, and unless Arthur recovers fully, Merlin will only ever be a shadow.

“But Merlin found him.” Gwaine says, as though this should be the solution to all of their problems. The room goes very quiet for a second or for an eternity.

“I was too late.” Merlin says, his voice sounding like dry leaves blowing down an endless, dark lane.

“No.” Uther says, in his King voice, making Merlin look up at him and away again. “No.” Uther says again, sounding more like a father. Merlin closes his eyes. Gaius’s fingers break contact with his skin and Gaius moves away.

“What does that mean?” Morgana asks, hiccoughing, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“It means…” Nimueh begins, talking very slowly, “that Arthur died. And  even though Arthur is... _alive_ … again now, he might not still be Arthur. We have no way of knowing. Not until he wakes up. If he wakes up."

Merlin had pulled. He had done everything he could think to do. He had seen in Arthur’s still features the dead face of his mother and he had relived that moment when he hadn’t been able to do enough and he had just kept trying. Eventually Arthur’s heart had begun to beat again, but Merlin couldn’t heal him, not after expending all of his energy just to bring him back. So the doctors had come and they had done their best and now everyone is waiting.

*

"You've done everything you can for him, Merls. Stop this." Will says, sounding angry and very sad.

"I have to keep trying. This is all my fault." Merlin replies, his voice a whisper. He doesn't take his eyes off Arthur's sleeping face.

"Forgetting, of course, that he would be dead already if it weren't for you."

"Forgetting, of course, that he wouldn't have ever been shot at all if it weren't for me."

"Neither would you have been if it weren't for him." Will's voice leaves no room for argument, so Merlin doesn't bother reminding Will that Merlin was the intended target for the shooting at the gallery. It's been a long time since he and Will have argued quite this badly, and part of Merlin knows he wouldn't be where he is now without Will, but he's not going to capitulate. 

"I have to keep trying."

"It isn't working and you're going to end up killing yourself."

"It _is_ working." Merlin says, and though his voice is not raised it is venemous, and Will recoils.

"I'm leaving then. I won't stay here and watch this." 

And Merlin lets him go. He will not ever stop trying to save Arthur, and he doesn't know why Will would even suggest it.

*

The sun rises over London bringing with it the promise of a bright winter day. Blinding in its intensity, bouncing brightly off windows, chrome bumpers and anything else reflective that it can use to intensify its brilliance, the sun rises. The city is subdued, wary, fearful of waking to such a day. Afraid to live this day and fail to live up to it’s expectations. But the city does wake, and seemingly in an instant.

Merlin, sitting uncomfortably in his chair in the Palace, one hand still stretched out towards Arthur, doesn’t see the sunrise. Weighed down by all of the possibilities of the day, Merlin sleeps on.

In the hospital bed Arthur blinks awake, shying away from the dimness of the room which, to his long-closed eyes, seems painfully bright. His body feels leaden, slow, heavier than he remembers, almost numb. There is a sharp spot of hot pain on the inside of his left wrist and he turns his head in an agonising movement to see what is there.

Two fingers, long and elegant and pale, pressed against Arthur’s skin like a kiss. The sleeping hand pushed between the rails of the hospital bed, still, and impossibly thin.

“Merlin.” Arthur says, nearly inaudible, breathing out the word like a heartbeat; and it _was_ his heartbeat, his lifeline, the thing which had brought him back. “Merlin.” He repeats, and beside him blue eyes flash open.

“Arthur?” Merlin asks, sitting straight in his chair, but never letting his fingers break contact with Arthur’s skin. “Oh, god. Arthur!”

Merlin looks awful, like he hasn’t slept or eaten or even breathed in days. His cheeks are hollowed and his eyes are sunken and Arthur’s heart breaks because he knows this is his fault and he’s sorry.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur says, but the sound is lost as Merlin rustles in the covers on Arthur’s bed for the call button to summon a doctor. Merlin is crying, fat tears which fall like rain from his eyes, but he is smiling also.

“I thought I was too late.” Merlin says, over and over and over until someone enters the room. His two fingers remain pressed solidly against Arthur’s skin even as the doctors check his vital signs and flash lights in his eyes and ask him his name and his birthday and where he is and does he know who he is or when it is or anything. Arthur answers them, weakly, keeping his gaze on Merlin whose eyes are still leaking and who seems, now, to be repeating Arthur’s name like a prayer with every exhalation.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur says to Merlin only, though the room is full of people now. Merlin draws nearer, still with his fingers touching Arthur’s wrist, and he takes Arthur’s left hand in his, looking down at their linked fingers. “For everything.” Arthur clarifies, “I should never have sent you away.”

The doctors separate them then, but Merlin refuses to move his fingers. It is as though the touch is a life force between them and if he removes it Arthur will fade. As it is, Arthur does slip away from him, but only into sleep, feeling the wetness of tears against his skin and hearing Merlin’s voice humming his name into his ear, his accent tripping over all of the “R’s”.

*

“I think I almost caused a rift in The M’s relationship. Morgana is so grateful that I saved your life she promised to name their firstborn 'Merlin’ even if it's a girl. Morgause disagrees, and I'm on her side. I got teased enough for my name when I was a kid I wouldn't wish it on anyone else, especially a girl.”

Merlin still sits beside Arthur, just enjoying their time together. Arthur has been awake for a few days now but is fading in and out of sleep frequently. Merlin keeps up a mostly one-sided conversation, just glad that Arthur is able to occasionally respond.

“Gwaine, Lance and Leon have vowed that I shall never pay for another drink again in my life. A proposal I'm surprisingly on board with.” Merlin continues, watching Arthur's smile slide slowly into place.

Merlin has been spending his days here beside Arthur. In silence, sometimes, but more often than not reading to Arthur from a familiar book, or telling Arthur what's happened during the days Arthur had been unreachable. The nights Merlin spends curled beside Arthur in the single hospital bed, no space for words between them.

“Percy keeps trying to get me to agree to a tentative date for his thank you shag.” Merlin says, glorying to hear Arthur laugh weakly with him. For so long, for so many, many days, Merlin had thought he mightn't ever hear that laugh again. “Do you remember the last time he said he was planning to schedule a shagging? It was the afternoon of our first kiss, and I was the injured one.”

Arthur smiles fondly into the middle distance as if remembering, then he turns to Merlin and says, “That wasn't our first kiss.”

“It was! I remember very clearly because we kept frightening the nurses with my heart rate monitor protesting my excitement every five seconds.”

“Oh,” Arthur says, watching the point where Merlin’s fingers are still pressed lightly against his skin, “I remember the details, but it wasn't our first kiss. That happened at the swimming baths the night you were trying to tell me all about how you're the Dragon Lord.”

“The owls.” Merlin says with a nod, “I wasn't counting that because at the time I thought it was just me making a massive tit of myself.”

“We've both been idiots, haven't we?” Arthur says, “Imagine if we'd have just _talked_ to each other. We could have been together for so long.”

“Don't say that.” Merlin says, sadly. He's been struggling with this notion for a long time now and Arthur confirming it doesn't help.

“We could have been shagging at Christmas like my father thought we were.”

Merlin laughs loudly, shocked. “Your father thought what?”

“Well he didn't understand why else I would have followed you.” Arthur’s voice is low and soft, and Merlin wonders whether he's remembering their afternoon together in the snug, because the memory is very vivid for Merlin.

“I still have that paper crown.” Merlin admits shyly, not looking at Arthur, “The one you put on my head when I was sleeping. I saved it. It's in _Neverwhere_.”

“We've both been idiots, haven't we?” Arthur repeats, and both of them laugh, Merlin watching the side of Arthur's face as the sun through the window lights him like a spotlight.

*

“George knows he hasn't got a leg to stand on.” Morgause says, whispering, assuming Arthur is asleep, which he isn't. He's simply listening with his eyes closed.

“He's no longer of any use to them, so he's disposable. He came to us for safety. Safety in return for names.”

“If the organisation is as vast and multinational George says it is, we won't be able to keep him safe.” Valiant says.

“He doesn't have to know that.” Nimueh adds, ruthless. Not for the first time Arthur is infinitely glad Nimueh is on _their_ side. She makes a formidable opponent.

“So what's next?” Morgana asks, and Arthur tries not to move at all as she brushes his hair off his forehead.

“I find them.” Merlin says, and Arthur's eyes open in shock, meeting Merlin's own gaze and confirming that Merlin knows Arthur was faking sleep.

“No.” Arthur says, adamant. Everyone but Gaius makes noises of surprise.

“I have to, Arthur. I can't just sit and wait for them to come. Not anymore, not after what they did to you. I need to be able to live my life. I need them to know their efforts are wasted, that they can't get to me.”

“I have a better idea,” Arthur's father says, striding confidently into the room. All eyes snap to him. “Diplomacy. Merlin you will, under my instruction, introduce and ingratiate yourself to every leader of every country that will agree to meet with you. You will drive magic out from the shadows and then these people will realise they are grossly outnumbered and they will retreat.”

“Ingratiate myself?” Merlin asks, clearly doubting his abilities.”And how, exactly, am I supposed to manage that?”

“Be yourself.” Arthur says, and Merlin's eyes meet his. There's a look of uncertainty bordering on panic on Merlin's face and Arthur squeezes his hand reassuringly.

“Yes.” Gaius says, so fondly it makes Merlin's ears blush.

And suddenly everyone in the room is saying ”yes” in tandem, making Arthur smile warmly and Merlin turn crimson.

“Fear created these people and fear feeds their hatred. You need to show them they have no reason to fear you.” Uther says, wisely, and Arthur feels a rush of affection for his father.

“Be the Merlin I fell in love with. The rest will follow.” Arthur says, and with the tender look Merlin gives him it could be just the two of them in the universe.

*

At the beginning of December, over a week after Arthur's reawakening Merlin departs for his first diplomatic visit. To pacify Arthur Morgana goes along to guide him. Though Arthur understands why Merlin had to leave he doesn't feel less lonely for the understanding and he spends a silent day wishing Merlin hadn't left at all. The room feels huge with the absence of him, and so much darker.

Arthur can still sense Merlin’s fingers pressed desperately against the inside of his wrist. There is a slight scar on Arthur's skin now and even in the deep night when he wakes in the darkness, he doesn’t feel entirely alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specific Tags; Major Physical Injury (not graphic), Major Character Death  
> ps: [I made a soundtrack, if you're interested.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8922760)


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 41 - In which we come to the end of the story.
> 
> No Chapter Specific tags.
> 
> PS - [I made a soundtrack.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8922760) Just in case anyone was planning on reading it all from the beginning now that it's complete, put this on in the background and you'll be very happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to take a minute and thank each and every one of you for sticking with me and my boys for 158,299 words. I can't express how lovely it's been to read each of your comments and see your imaginings for the plot and everything. I've loved every second of this, and I hope that you all continue to enjoy London Skyline now that it's finally finished.
> 
> Of course I also have to say a huge thank you to FeythInWords who won't really know what to do with her Tuesday and Friday evenings now that she won't be getting frantic text messages from me regarding edits. Maybe I'll just have to write a sequel?
> 
> Seriously, though, thank you, thank you, thank you. And thanks to our Merlin and our Arthur who, so many years ago, made us all so enamoured that we're still dreaming up alternative endings to their story. It's been fun.

**Chapter 41**

“Hey.” Arthur says, answering the phone. Its well gone midnight, and the lateness of the hour suggests that Merlin is somewhere distant and has lost track of time zones.

“Hey.” Merlin says, sounding exhausted. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired still but steadily better. What are you up to?”

“Shaking hands, smiling, following directions, being myself.”

“And is it working?”

“It seems to be.” Merlin replies, “Although I do feel I spend half my time trying to convince people that I'm not actually some kind of half-human, half-dragon hybrid.”

“That's brilliant.” Arthur laughs, then considers, “Can you be sure, though? How far back can you trace your family tree?”

“Are you suggesting that one of my ancestors had sexual relations with a dragon?” Merlin says, sounding horrified.

“It would explain a lot is all I'm saying.”

There are a few moments of silence before Merlin lets loose a long, annoyed sigh and Arthur laughs.

“I miss you.” Arthur says, holding the phone closer to his face as though trying to get to Merlin by osmosis.

“Me too. More than I can easily articulate over the phone. What are your plans for Christmas?”

“Palace. Apparently I'm under house arrest until I learn how to not be an idiot.”

“So basically until the end of time, then?” Merlin says, and Arthur can clearly picture his fond smile. He aches to have Merlin with him, but he knows that isn't possible right now. Merlin has to move quickly to form these unofficial alliances before counter actions begin taking effect. It's a race against the clock and Merlin is doing all he can.

*

Midway through December Merlin finds himself in Glasgow with a few, glorious days off. He's considered taking the train to London to see Arthur, but he hasn't been able to confirm plans and doesn't feel he can show up unannounced. He desperately wants to go to Ealdor, not just to see Will, but to see his home, even if it isn't really his home anymore. In the run up to Christmas he misses his mother like oxygen deprivation, and being in Ealdor would help. But the train timetables are against him, and by the time he would get there he'd need to come straight back again to catch his next flight with Morgana to wherever the hell it is they're going next. He doesn't want to spend his only time off travelling because he knows Morgana and he are headed somewhere over Christmas, she'd asked him to keep his diary open in any case.

So, on his first afternoon in Scotland in weeks Merlin wanders introspectively down Byres Road in the rain, listening to the Scottish mix Arthur had made for Morgana and remembering the feeling of waking up next to Arthur, the brilliance of him like having a second sun in the world.

He tries to phone Arthur again but it goes straight to voicemail and Merlin hangs up without leaving a message. What would he say? _Hi, been busy? Me, too. Oh, also: I miss you I miss you I miss you._

In the end he settles on phoning Will, and happily Will answers, just as Merlin passes the Oran Mor Theatre and politely takes a flyer for _A Play, A Pie, and A Pint_ from the umbrella carrying college student handing them out on the corner.

“Merlin! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You sound like an idiot when you talk like that, you know.” Merlin says, smiling. “How's business?”

“Same old, same old.” Will says, but Merlin can hear the clink of glasses in the background which means he must be busy. “Did you need something?”

“Just wanted to talk.” Merlin admits, thinking how terribly lonely he is since Will moved back to Ealdor to help out with the transition at The Prince and Crown. “You busy?”

“Kind of. Call you later?” Will says, and before Merlin can respond the call is ended.

Merlin puts his music back on as he heads towards Kelvinbridge Station, intending to take the subway into town and see the lights at Royal Exchange Square. He feels distinctly teen-aged and morose, but takes some fortification from Frightened Rabbit who sing about all the Things they no longer need in their lives.

Merlin considers popping into a coffee shop and getting a double espresso thinking that even if it isn't The Dawn Treader at least it can't make him feel worse. But at that moment a pristinely white midsize rental car pulls up to the kerb and Guinevere, of all people, launches herself from the car and grabs Merlin by his arm.

“Gwen, what are you doing?” Merlin shouts, trying to stop her from manhandling him into the backseat. He fails miserably at overpowering her even though Gwen is half his size. A few people passing on the pavement look nervously at them but Merlin smiles in what is hopefully a reassuring way as if to prove that he isn't, in fact, being stolen.

“Kidnapping you.” Gwen says with an evil smile, forcing Merlin to bend as he climbs into the car and then seating herself basically on his lap as he’s squeezed next to a barely breathing Leon who is squeezed next to an uncomfortable looking Percy who is folded into the corner of the car like a jack-in-the-box. Percy smiles and waves at Merlin, who waves back at him, cocking his head to see such a strange scene.

“Go, Gwaine, go!” Lance shouts from the passenger seat of the car as Gwaine rockets away from the pavement, kicking up a huge puddle of muddy water in their wake as they make an illegal U-turn and blast down Great Western Road towards the Clyde Tunnel.

“What the hell are you all doing here?” Merlin asks, not able to stop the laugh that bubbles up inside him. Gwen turns sideways, bending almost in half as she is pressed against the roof of the car. “Oh, god, this isn't to do with Percy’s planned shagging of me, is it? Because as much as I like you, mate…”

“No!” Percy shouts, trying to emphasise the shout with a hand gesture but failing miserably due to the confined space.

“We’re just kidnapping you. Little holiday. Nothing much. You’ll be back in time for Morgana, don't worry.” Lance explains, craning round in his seat to see Merlin, laughing and linking hands briefly with Gwen, who is giggling uncontrollably.

“Where are we going?” Merlin asks.

“It’s a secret.” Percy says, rolling his eyes, clearly he has been press ganged into this whole affair.

“And we’re driving there? All squashed into this car like sardines?” Merlin says, incredulous, guessing that his legs have fifteen seconds before they lose all feeling.

“We’re flying, but we need to get the the airfield first.” Leon manages between rasping, uncomfortable breaths.

“Well, I hope there’s more room in the plane.” Merlin says.

“I hope Gwaine gets to the airfield faster!” Percy says, painfully, as everyone in the car laughs and Merlin feels genuinely happy for the first time since he’d left Arthur’s side weeks ago.

*

Arthur watches the sun set low over the loch, painting the sky pink and lavender, the thick mist off the water making a second horizon. There are a few people out in tiny boats, returning to the shore in the fading light. Behind them, on a small outcrop of mossy rocks, a ruined 14th century castle molders, one wall listing perilously towards the water. The scene is breathtakingly beautiful, etching itself into Arthur’s very soul, making him ache with longing.

As Arthur watches a seaplane approaches and lands on the loch causing rippling outward waves to crash loudly against the shore.

He has healed well, and faster than anyone expected, but he supposed that had something to do with Merlin draining the energy out of the entire city of London just to bring Arthur back and to fix him. Arthur absentmindedly runs his fingers over the scars on his left wrist, proof, if he needed it, of Merlin’s devotion.

It had taken Arthur hours of persuading to get his father to agree to let him come to Scotland. The team of seven medical professionals currently kipping at The Prince and Crown are Uther’s insurance, as are the twenty or so covert members of the Royal Protection Command stationed in and around the village. It's a small price to pay for freedom, and Arthur doesn't mind. He needed to get out.

This is the first time he's been to the house in Ealdor since he visited it with Merlin almost a year ago. He'd managed to purchase the house from the bank, finally, but it had taken a lot of hard work. He needs this house, and he needs it to be a safe place for Merlin, too. And it will be just as soon as Arthur gets around to telling him he's bought it. He's not keeping it a _secret_ , it's just the timing has never been quite right.

In any case Arthur is enjoying his time in Ealdor. He needed to be alone somewhere that was entirely Merlin. Somewhere he could leech Merlin’s energy back into himself from his surroundings. The house, though newly furnished (with Will’s assistance, Arthur wanted to be sympathetic to Merlin's grief), seems empty, hollow and closed down, and Arthur stays only until the last rays of sun have faded into darkness, and then climbs into Valiant’s car and gets driven the short distance into the village.

Ealdor has welcomed him warmly, though Arthur expects William has had something to do with that. The proprietor for the local pub holds a lot of sway when 90% of the population comes round for a drink most nights. Arthur is trying to fit in, but he doesn’t feel very comfortable here, not really, not without Merlin making the village absolutely inherent.

Arthur, of course, owns The Prince and Crown now, but that was always going to happen. Just as he quietly owns Merlin’s childhood home, and the leisure centre in the heart of London where he and Merlin had gone swimming so many, many months ago. Everything that Merlin has ever touched Arthur wants to possess and make his own. Not out of a desire to possess or control Merlin himself, but as a way to bring him closer to the man he misses every agonising second of every long, long day.

When he gets to the Prince and Crown, he's surprised to see the car park mostly empty. Usually there's a dinner crowd, or there has been the past three days. Brow furrowed, Arthur shoulders his a way through the door of the inn.

“Morgana?” Arthur asks, pleased, but surprised to see her. “What are you doing here?” Arthur sweeps his cousin into a crushing hug in the foyer of The Prince and Crown.

“Morgause and I wanted an early honeymoon. You speak so highly of this place, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” She says, flippantly, pulling her long hair back into an untidy bun at the base of her neck, smiling all over her beautiful face.

“Honeymoon? You’re not getting married for another year! Where is Morgause anyway?” Arthur asks, looking around the tiny foyer as though perhaps Morgause is hiding somewhere.

“Talking to William.” Morgana says, indulgently, tilting her head towards the bar. “Where have you been all day? I've been calling you. I wanted you to take me on a tour of the village!” Morgana throws on her most convincing pout.

“Oh.” Arthur falters, not wanting to explain that he’d been lying on his back with his eyes closed in the middle of Merlin’s old bedroom, listening to Scottish music and pretending. “I’ve been busy. And I don't get a signal up here.”

“Yes, well, you’re here now. Come through!” Morgana grabs Arthur’s arm and pulls him, protesting, through the closed door into the pub. Immediately Arthur’s ears are assaulted by the sound of laughter and he looks around, surprised, to see himself in a room with most of his friends. Leaning his back against the edge of the bar, all faces turned to him, obviously in the middle of a rather amusing story, is Merlin.

Merlin, looking painfully good in a dark blue jumper and black trousers. Merlin, clean shaven, his hair shaggy and unkempt as usual, his eyes glowing with mirth and his cheeks tinged pink with laughter. Merlin, smiling at Arthur and shaking his head at the rest of the room, seeking silent approval of a plan his eyes are admitting he has had nothing to do with. It could be poolside champagne and chocolates again, and Arthur's face splits into a wide grin.

“Oh, come on, Merls, finish the story first!” Gwaine demands, pounding a fist on the table. Merlin doesn’t spare him a glance, but keeps his eyes locked with Arthur’s. Morgana leaves Arthur’s side and goes to sit next to Morgause, hiding her sly smile behind her glass of white wine.

“What’s going on?” Arthur says, feeling distinctly wrong-footed and, suddenly panicked, wondering whether he’s brushed his hair today, or, at the very least, worn clean trousers. Merlin’s eyes are still on him, apologetic.

“We thought it was about time you two stopped being such idiots.” Will says, putting a pint of lager onto a beer mat beside Arthur on the bar.

“Idiots?” Arthur says, feeling like one in the moment.

“The prevailing opinion, I think, is that you and I are madly in love with each other and it's about time we did something about it.” Merlin says, and Arthur watches the pink tinge creep higher up the line of his cheekbones. Arthur’s fingers twitch, wanting to trace that line.

“Merlin, Arthur has bought half of the damn village here to try to be closer to you, including your mother’s old house. You’re welcome for that one, by the way.” Will addresses the second sentence to Arthur, as he’d played such a big part in keeping the sale a secret. “Arthur, Merlin’s role as Dragon Lord Supreme or whatever the hell they’re calling him these days is transient, I'll grant you, but it doesn't have to be solitary. And don't let him try to tell you that he needs to live in Glasgow, because the University job is an honorary one to begin with and he can do it from, literally, anywhere in the world. I checked.” Will finishes, earning a tut of annoyance from Merlin, who glowers at him briefly before returning his gaze to Arthur’s face.

“You’re both being stupid. There's no reason you can't be the one accompanying Merlin in these diplomatic visits. They might be whirlwind tours, but they're hardly taxing. And, before you protest, your father agrees with me.” Morgana says, still hiding her grin. This has obviously been her plan, and Arthur wonders how long it has taken her to arrange everything. Arthur spears her with a look that clearly says she’s mincemeat the next time they’re alone, but she just giggles and rests her head, innocently, on Morgause’s shoulder.

“What do you think, Arthur?” Merlin says, and, as is usual when Merlin is talking to him, the rest of the entire world falls away. Merlin has taken a step towards Arthur, reaching his hand out and placing his two fingers along the skin at the inside of Arthur’s left wrist.

Arthur, feeling suddenly and inexplicably more scared than he has ever in his entire life, takes Merlin’s hand into his and twines their fingers together. Their eyes meet, blue on blue, and Arthur struggles to breathe. Could it really be this easy? This thing he’s been fighting for so long?

“Yes.” Arthur says, finally, and Gwaine shouts something obscene and all the room laughs, including Arthur, who feels like his whole body is inflating from within.

*

Arthur wakes to feel Merlin's cold hands splayed across his neck, fingers wandering and full of mischief. His luminescent watchface reads just gone 5am. Christmas morning.

The air in the room is cold, the fire having gone out in the night, but the cocoon of their bed is blissfully warm and Arthur coories down beneath the blankets, nudging into the crook of Merlin's neck.

“It's too early.” Arthur complains half heartedly, his voice thick with sleep. His protestations do not stop Merlin, whose fingers travel glacially down Arthur's chest under the warm duvet.

Through the hush of closed shutters Arthur can hear the cacophony of water tumbling over the weir beside the house, and the quieter bubble of the river coming to rest in the deep loch. He thinks he shall never tire of that symphony.

“We have somewhere to be.” Merlin murmurs, his lips and teeth capturing Arthur's earlobe.

“At nine.” Arthur inhales as Merlin’s fingers begin caressing the skin of his lower abdomen. “We have plenty of time.”

“Not for what I have planned.” Merlin says, his voice deep with raw lust. Arthur succumbs to his kiss eagerly, his lips parting as Merlin’s tongue glides gently past to meet his own.

Merlin is gentle with Arthur, both of them moving at a slow pace. As their sighs and gasps and shudders add volume to the morning Arthur's heart settles peacefully into his newly created idea of home, and he discovers he never wants to leave.

*

Christmas day at The Prince and Crown is a quiet affair. Isa and Jack have returned from Spain to spend Christmas with William. The added guest list of Arthur, Merlin and half a dozen of their closest friends and family makes the day all the merrier. Arthur stays by Merlin's side the entire day, taking it all in.

They all tell their own stories about the previous Christmas, each of them making it clear that they knew Arthur and Merlin fancied each other and were trying to set them up. William being, possibly, the only one for whom that part of the story is true.

As Arthur recounts the overheard phone conversation between Merlin and Gwen that had sent him walking sadly out into the snow, Merlin shakes his head, smiling, thinking every hardship he'd ever endured in his life was worth it for days like this.

*

  
  


[text conversation between Merlin and Arthur:  
**Merlin:** Morning Arth. Where are you today? Mxx  
**Arthur:** London. Doctors appointments. You? Axx  
**Merlin:** Again? Paris. Meeting with some old crone who believes she's the Dragon Lord.  
**Arthur:** It's LORD, not LADY.  
**Merlin:** I know.  
**Arthur:** Are you going to flash her your birthmark? Because I could probably get to Paris in a few hours...  
**Merlin:** Ha. Ha. Probably just magic something and she'll faint. That's what happened in Milan. When will I see you?  
**Arthur:** Two days. Uther's parading us around in front of those foreign ministers, remember?  
**Merlin:** Shit. Is that this weekend? I've not packed any formal clothes.  
**Arthur:** You really need to move your stuff to the Palace.  
**Merlin:** I'll get something ordered. See you in two days, then?  
**Arthur:** You're spending the night with me before, I hope?  
**Merlin:** Well, I suppose I could clear my schedule.  
**Merlin:** What have you got planned?  
**Arthur:** Nakedness. A lot of it.  
**Merlin:** Hmm... Sounds interesting.  
**Merlin:** I'll think about it.

*

“Careful!” Merlin exclaims, halfheartedly, as Arthur's hands plow beneath his shirt and jacket, pushing the fabric up to expose a landscape of pale flesh and rib bones. “The shirt’s new.”

“All your shirts are new, Emrys, as you never pack appropriate clothing.” Arthur manages to admonish between kissing the breath out of Merlin and trying to disrobe him against the wall in a darkened room somewhere in the depths of whichever building or palace or country they're in. It's hard to keep track.

Merlin’s words are lost to sighs as Arthur manages to unbuckle his kilt and it falls heavily to the floor, leaving Merlin half-naked and beautiful in the dim light. Arthur, wasting no time, shrugs himself out of his trousers and throws them over the back of a chair. After the field day the German papers had had speculating why Arthur's clothes had been so dishevelled after his mysterious hour-long sojourn during a diplomatic dinner last month, Arthur has been careful to preserve at least a modicum of plausible deniability.

“We shouldn't be doing this here.” Merlin murmurs, wrapping one leg around Arthur’s waist and hitching himself into a more accessible position.

“You can't say that, not after standing there next to that vapid woman and eye fucking me for the last twenty minutes. You're lucky I didn't strip you down in front of all those people.” Merlin lets out a filthy, half-formed sound as Arthur's fingers breach his body and he presses back against them hungrily.

“I can't help myself.” Merlin sighs, moving his free hand between them and fisting himself nearly desperately as Arthur eventually withdraws his fingers. “All I could think about was having you inside me.”

Arthur bites off Merlin’s name as Merlin begins to ride him, not gracefully, but expertly and full of wanting. “Fuck, Emrys, I won't last long with you saying these things to me.” Arthur says, breathless, thrusting.

“Good,” Merlin says, arching his head back and exposing his neck which Arthur breathes into, being careful with his teeth. “We haven't got long, they're already wondering where we are.”

Arthur buries himself deep and Merlin moves against him. Arthur's left hand braces them against the wall and Merlin's mouth seeks out the marks there on the inside of his wrist and sucks a kiss against the skin.

“Already?” Arthur asks, not being gentle, and Merlin lets out a strangled cry.

“Let them find us.” Merlin gasps, his breath becoming ragged and his entire body clenching, hot, around Arthur whose knees weaken. “All those eyes on us. Everyone able to see how much I need you. How hot I am for you.”

“Christ, Emrys.” Arthur growls, redoubling his efforts and making it impossible for Merlin to keep saying these cursed things that cause Arthur to have the stamina of a sex - starved teenager.

Too short a time later they shudder against each other, not caring who might hear as they cry each other’s names too loudly into the empty room.

“I don't think,” Merlin says, buckling his kilt back onto his thin hips, “that cleaning up after sex in public places is exactly what the fates had in mind when they decided I should be Lord of All Magic.”

“Well, then, they shouldn't have made you so pretty.” Arthur says, tucking his shirt into his trousers and searching the floor for his missing shoe. “And, you have to admit,” Arthur gestures at his newly unsoiled white shirt, “it does come in handy.”

*

The photo shoot had actually been Morgana’s idea; humanise the Dragon Lord in an easily accessible and understandable way - tabloid media. Merlin had contested the idea quite vociferously at first, but he had been talked into it by every single person in his telephone’s contact list, and his trepidation now is based only on nerves. Arthur insists on coming along, although this means that the photographer’s studio has to be narrowed down to skeleton staff for security reasons.

Morgana and the stylist agree on an aesthetic that Merlin can almost live with - just Merlin, with an air of dark mystique. Arthur smirks at him mercilessly for the first half hour that he’s in hair and makeup and Merlin sends him away, pouting.

Almost two hours later Merlin emerges, his hair tinged deep blue with highlights (which the stylists insists will wash out) and impossibly styled so that it looks effortless and wind-tossed. His makeup is subtle but makes him look dangerous and, in his opinion, slightly cruel. He's almost afraid to see Arthur - worried about what Arthur will think of the look, however temporary it may be. Arthur is standing with the photographer studying the back of the camera and nodding like he's being instructed on proper lighting scenarios. When he sees Merlin all the breath seems to escape him at once and Merlin feels his cheeks reddening, no longer worried about Arthur’s reaction.

“Perfect.” The photographer says, smiling and looking Merlin up and down with a hungry gaze. All Merlin can see is Arthur’s wide eyes and the fingers of Arthur's hand splayed across his chest as though protecting an open wound. There is no time for talking as the photographer whisks Merlin away and begins instructing him on where to look and how to hold his features. The flashing strobe lights are very distracting as Merlin struggles to keep his eyes on Arthur who stands at the side, arms crossed tightly and chewing his fingernails.

After his third wardrobe change the stylist suggests Merlin wears the clothes he'd come in and he feels more like himself in a plain t-shirt and jeans. He relaxes into the shoot and begins to enjoy himself, laughing easily and smiling honest smiles. Arthur, returning to the room after stepping out to take a phone call, pauses to watch Merlin for only a few moments before he strides unannounced into the path of the camera and seizes Merlin's hand, leading him away. Arthur drags him to the rear of the studio which is dark and empty and two steps into the shadows Arthur's mouth is on Merlin’s and one hand is fisted in Merlin's carefully styled hair.

Arthur presses Merlin back into the masonry wall hard enough to bruise. Neither of them speak, their desires evident in the hisses and sighs and their low, low moaning. Around Merlin the world narrows down until it is only the two of them.

“Stop.” Merlin gasps against Arthur’s cheek as Arthur’s teeth bite one of Merlin’s earlobes.

“No.” Arthur manages between breaths, moving his hands under Merlin's shirt. Merlin inhales shakily and tilts his head back against the exposed brick of the wall. He hitches his own thumbs into the waistband of Arthur’s tailored black trousers and Arthur’s back arches before he, too, says, “Stop.”

“No.” Merlin murmurs, capturing Arthur’s bottom lip between his teeth and kissing him deeply.

“Stop.” Comes a voice from behind them. They both turn, startled, to see the photographer with his camera angled in their direction. Arthur steps away seconds before Merlin whose gaze is focused on the photographer as the flash goes once, alarmingly bright in the darkness.

The magazine goes to print almost immediately afterward, the interview poignant and funny, populated by images of Merlin looking forbidding and powerful. There is a centerfold of the final image; Merlin, his pupils blown wide with lust, his mouth rough and well-kissed, makeup expertly smudged and hair looking wild. His left hand scrabbles at the bricks beside him, knuckles white. His right hand reaches almost off camera, two fingers wrapped tightly around Arthur’s left wrist.

"I'll tell you one thing for free,” Lance says, throwing himself into the seat next to Merlin on the plane and brandishing a copy of the magazine, “You will get recognised after this.”

“Definite wanking material, mate.” Gwaine says, leaning in from the aisle, as though it's the nicest compliment he can bestow.

“He's not wrong.” Percy adds, sliding into the seat opposite. Everyone looks at him curiously. Percy merely brandishes the centre picture as evidence and adds, “Oh, come on. Straight boys all over the world are going to sleep thinking of this picture tonight.”

Amidst everyone's rising laughter Arthur’s voice comes strong and clear, “Maybe, but only one of us gets to keep him.” Merlin doesn't miss the subtle, possessive accent to the sentence, and his pulse quickens.

“Oh, rub it in why don't you!” Gwaine says in an agonised tone, his eyes lingering on Arthur's hand on Merlin's shoulder. Merlin closes his eyes and focuses on the feel of Arthur's fingers against the base of his neck just above his shirt collar.

As Merlin turns to smile up at Arthur he wonders whether there will ever be a day when the merest touch from Arthur doesn't raise an almost painful desire in him; a few minutes later, as he frantically unbuttons Arthur’s trousers in the airplane lavatory, he decides there never will be, and that will be just fine with him.

*

“What's this?” Merlin asks, unfolding himself from the bed and coming to where Arthur is standing, holding yet another garment bag and looking inexplicably nervous. “Not another Royal engagement, surely.” Merlin complains, wondering how he's ever meant to get anything done at all with his calendar so full of pressing Royal activities.

“It's a dress. Morgana picked it out, thought it would suit you.” Arthur attempts to repeat a joke told over a year ago, but he doesn't sound committed, and Merlin raises his eyebrows, wondering.

“I know I hold an Official State Title now, but is it really necessary for us to attend every event held by your father?” Merlin continues, not letting Arthur's strange mood derail him from his teasing complaints.

“Actually, this one I'm hosting.”

“Oh, well, in that case.” Merlin shrugs, grabbing the garment bag and intending to toss it onto the bed, not really interested in what’s inside it. Merlin never seems to have the appropriate clothing for any situation, ever, so he's constantly being sent new things, usually picked out by either Arthur or the Royal stylists. This is likely another kilt, but, actually, it doesn't feel heavy enough to hold a kilt. It feels rather empty. Curiosity piqued, Merlin looks back at Arthur’s unreadable face.

“What's this?” Merlin repeats, genuinely confused as he starts to unzip the bag.

“Just something I was hoping we could wear.”

“We?” Merlin pulls aside the fabric and freezes. The bag is mostly empty except for two small objects attached to the hanger by a wide ribbon of dark tartan fabric. “Which event was this for exactly?”

“Our wedding?” Arthur says, and it's barely a question. Merlin detaches the smaller ring from the ribbon and takes it between his fingers, bringing it close to examine the detail. There are two small stones set flush in an unknown silver metal, one ruby and one sapphire, linked to each other by a continuous figure of eight design etched deeply beside them. "I was thinking, as well, it's about time we had our own tartan." Arthur says, pulling the ribbon out of the bag and handing it to Merlin who takes it, eyes wide. "Royal Emrys-Pendragon. Do you like it?"

Merlin looks up at Arthur's expectant face. “You're asking me to marry you?”

“Was thinking about it.” Arthur says, with a noncommittal shrug. “What do you think?”

“Oh, aye.” Merlin says, with half a laugh, holding the rings tightly in his hand and intertwining his fingers with Arthur's. He kisses Arthur tenderly, desperately, feeling so full of love he wants to leech into Arthur’s soul.

“Merlin.” Arthur says, breaking away reluctantly.

“Mmm-hmmm.” Merlin mutters, kissing the underside of Arthur’s jaw.

“It’s just the, um…” Arthur begins, interrupted by Merlin pressing their mouths together again until they are both breathless, wanting. “The rug.” Arthur tries again.

“What about it?” Merlin asks, sliding his hands to Arthur’s back and pulling him close, lavishing small kisses along Arthur’s arched neck.

“It’s growing.” Arthur says, almost laughing. Merlin breaks away and looks down at the elaborately patterned floral rug they were standing on. Arthur’s correct, of course. The flowers in the pattern are, indeed, growing and he and Arthur are now knee-deep in a floral meadow. Indoors. Merlin’s laughter bubbles up out of him on a balloon of pure joy. Arthur leans down and plucks an improbably large red poppy out of the air, chuckling. Merlin cradles a handful of bluebells carefully, marvelling at the absolute beauty of them.

“Married?” Merlin says, looking back at Arthur, smile splitting his face.

“Yes.” Arthur says, nodding. Arthur is glowing as if lit from within, and his smile is so beautiful it is physically painful.

“Soon?” Merlin says, reaching out and grabbing Arthur’s left wrist.

“Yes, please.” Arthur says, pulling Merlin towards him and into an embrace which threatens to crush them both. Merlin’s lips meet Arthur’s and Merlin closes his eyes, letting himself sink into the kiss as all around them flowers bloom.

**Fin.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Something like what I imagine their rings look like.](https://www.etsy.com/listing/103431372/sterling-silver-wide-ring-band-with-ruby?ref=shop_home_active_18)   
>  [Also, because I'm a nerd, here's the Emrys-Pendragon tartan.](http://i.imgur.com/drFpFDc.jpg)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as ever, to the wonderful FeythInWords who is not only my best friend but also my beta. Please go read her works, they're saucy and she's saucy also! Rawr.
> 
> The oldest draft I have of this story is from December 2013 which means that since I started writing this I: had a baby, quit my job, moved house three times, emigrated to America with my husband and son, and started a business. In summary, I really hope you enjoy this. 
> 
> As ever I adore your comments and kudos.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the names or characters and I'm not making any pennies at all from this work.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Soundtrack to London Skyline](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8922760) by [Caledonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caledonia/pseuds/Caledonia)




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